


Notting Hill - A Harmony Retelling

by HappyCatTaxi



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Drama, F/M, Notting Hill movie with Harry Potter Characters, Romance, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-09-26 07:44:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20386168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HappyCatTaxi/pseuds/HappyCatTaxi
Summary: The life of an ordinary bookshop owner is turned around when she meets the most famous wizard in the world.The story is a retelling of Notting Hill (1999) with Harry Potter characters.





	1. In which Hermione makes a fool of herself

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [HarmonyAtTheMovies](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/HarmonyAtTheMovies) collection. 

> Characters, plots, dialogue, and situations from the Harry Potter series belongs to JK Rowling.   
Characters, plots, dialogue, and situations from Notting Hill belongs to Universal Pictures.  
I am not profiting from this work.
> 
> The story was betaed by Paleandbroodingsgirl. Thank you so much for your help.
> 
> **Prompt:**
> 
> Notting Hill (1999)

Notting Hill, a delightful neighbourhood in the west of London, was known for its charming pastel-coloured houses, daily markets, and vast diversity of people living there. It was not a magical hotspot by any means but it did have its fair share of little shops selling magical items, though most of those items were not quite genuinely magical. Actually, the only shop in Notting Hill run by a real witch or wizard was the local bookshop  _ The Smell of Books _ on the corner of Portobello Road and Denbigh Close, though no one would ever guess if they didn’t know because the store appeared as Muggle as they came. Where most of the shops on Portobello tried their best to stand out with a multitude of colors and eye-catching displays,  _ Books _ as the locals usually referred to it, seemed almost to fade into the background with its simple design with just a plain blue sign with the name of the shop, a simple window display with a few sun-faded books, and a small sign in the window reading in a swirly golden front:  _ 'Old or new, we can locate any book for you. Ask inside.' _

Inside, the shop was slightly chaotic, the many bookcases were overflowing with books, large piles stacked on tables and any free surface were waiting to be sorted and placed in the already too crowded bookcases. At first glance the store did not look magical at all, but the trained eye might notice how the bookcases seemed to contain multiple rows of books even though there was actually only room for one row, or how the piles of books were just a tad too tall to be stable, but never seemed to fall over. The customers did not notice and that was just how the proprietor wanted it; she enjoyed owning a little bookshop nestled in the heart of Muggle London.

Hermione Granger not only owned a bookshop in Notting Hill, but she had lived in the neighbourhood for close to six years already and she was thriving. There were many reasons why a witch would move to London, it was after all a magical cosmopolitan, but where the magical community was still backwards thinking and conservative, Notting Hill was bustling with life and imagination. It was a place where anyone could be whoever they wanted to be irrespective of their nationality, social class, or even magical background; Muggles claimed to be witches and witches claimed to be Muggles. Differences were respected, celebrated, and embraced. No one cared who you used to be as long as you worked hard and played by the rules of the society. 

Shortly after arriving in London Hermione had fallen in love with Notting Hill and a specific blue-doored townhouse just off Portobello Road. It was a stroke of good luck that saw her move into the townhouse, but it was a meager income and an expensive cost of living that saw her look for a lodger. Luna Lovegood was an eccentric and carefree witch with an easy smile and a friendly disposition, and in many ways the opposite of Hermione with her appreciation for color coded day planners. Though the two witches were very different they became great friends and after years of living together, they enjoyed their home in Notting Hill and concluded it was not at all a bad place to live. 

In the early summer when the sun was shining high and the heat almost too much to bear, most Londoners had already escaped the busy city trying to find new ways to cool down, but Hermione was on her way to the shop. As she was making the ten minute walk from her home down Portobello Road to work, she passed the daily markets filling Portobello with every fruit and vegetable known to man, clothing in a multitude of colours and styles which seemed to never quite be in fashion, the very touristy London t-shirts with the  _ I heart Notting Hill _ as being the most popular, hot food stalls offering the best street food from around the world, and millions of antiques, some genuine and some not so genuine. It was a magnet for tourists looking to make a good deal, but even the tourists were scarce in the heat.

With a smile Hermione slipped passed the few tourists and went inside her shop. The inside of the shop felt even warmer than the outside, so she cast a few well placed cooling charms. It was after all not good for the books to be in too warm a room, she reasoned.

Knowing it would be a quiet day, she sat down behind the counter and started going over the books. Usually she closed the books at the end of each month, but she had been pushing off closing the books for May; accounting was probably the part of her job she hated the most, but it had to be done as she had to deliver a P&L statement to the Muggle bank. With a sigh, she pushed her reading glasses high on her nose and tried to decipher her own chicken scratch in the day-to-day journals. She often asked herself when she would learn to write the books properly in an easily legible script. Perhaps one day, but doing the books was just not something she enjoyed, so she often rushed it to have more time with the customers.

“How are you holding up in this heat, dear?” Arabella Figg asked as she walked down the stairs from the apartment upstairs. 

Before Hermione took over the shop, it was run by Arabella and she still lived in the apartment upstairs. Though simply an employee now, she was helping Hermione with everything around the shop, except accounting. She had never liked doing it either, so was happy to leave it to Hermione.

“Quite well, Arabella,” Hermione laughed looking up from the books, “but I’ve added a few cooling charms to make it bearable to work.” 

“Good on you. Just be careful of not breaking the statute of secrecy,” she warned, arranging the books on the counter. 

“Of course,” Hermione grinned. When she started working in the shop close to six years ago discovering Arabella was a Squib had been a blessing, as they both thought it was fine if Hermione could help around the store with just a little magic here and there.

“Why you walk here instead of apparating, I will never understand,” Arabella muttered.

“You know why,” Hermione replied smiling. “Notting Hill is not appreciated from inside the shop. Did you never feel happy just walking Portobello and seeing all the stands?”

“But you could walk Portobello in the weekends and not waste ten minutes each way every day.”

“But I like it,” Hermione countered, “besides, if I were to stop walking I’d need to find another way to get fresh air. Those twenty minutes every day are precious to me.” 

“Of course, of course,” the older woman laughed. “Since it’s so warm today I was thinking of going outside to get a cool drink from Costa. Do you want anything?”

“Yes, please. Can you bring me an ice-coffee?” 

“Of course,” she replied grabbing her purse. “Be right back!” 

Just as she was about to walk out the door it was opened from the outside. A man wearing a dark cap and sunglasses looked up, saw Arabella, and quickly held the door open for her while she thanked him with a nod and a smile. 

The man walked to the nearest bookcase slowly removing the sunglasses, and as Hermione watched him, she thought there was something about him that looked very familiar, but she couldn’t place him.

“Hello,” Hermione smiled. “Are you looking for something in particular?”

“No, just browsing,” the man replied.

“Let me know if there is anything I can help you with, alright?” She was trying to figure out where she recognised him from. Could he be one of Luna’s ex-boyfriends? Before Luna had met Rolf Scamander, she had been very active on the dating field, meeting different men and often bringing them home. Hermione had seen quite a few of them as they left in the mornings. 

“Sure,” the man continued looking at the books before he picked one from the lower shelf and leafed through it. 

Hermione recognised the book immediately and winced; that book was not any good, but instead of letting the man browse as he so clearly wanted, she said, “that is a terrible book.”

“Oh,” he replied glancing up from the book with a surprised look on his face and she realised what she had said. He was still holding the book but was quite clearly unsure how to reply when the proprietor of a bookshop pretty much told him to not buy the books. 

“I mean,” she awkwardly tried to think of something to say, “you know, just in case you were considering buying it… complete waste of money, that is... But could be useful for lighting fires, wrapping fish, that sort of thing...”

“Really?” he looked at her as if she was sprouting a second head.

“But if you are interested in that kind of travel books, I have another that is very good.”

“Alright,” he replied, though not putting the book back in the bookcase.

“Alright? Great, yes! It’s just over here.” She quickly moved from behind the counter and sprang to a bookcase locating a specific book, which she handed to him. “The photographs in this one are not as photoshopped so might not appear as amazing at first glance, but I think it actually makes them so much better. More real, you know. Oh, and more importantly the author actually visited these places and added little amusing stories from the different locations.”

“I’ll think about it,” he said with a polite, but mirthless smile.

“I don’t mean to push this book on you. Just, you know, since you were looking for something like this.”

“I’ll just take a look.”

“Alright.” Hermione’s smile widened upon realising she had not sent the customer storming off by her unplanned remark. “I’ll be at the counter if you need anything. Take your time.” 

As she walked back to the desk, she muttered quietly to herself, “beautiful Hermione, your shop is in danger of closing and you try to talk customers out of buying books and expensive books at that. How stupid are you?” 

She sat back down and looked at the books again. It really didn’t look good.

“Fantastic, absolutely fantastic. Profit from the last month is… negative,” she sighed, closing her eyes in despair and pinching her nose. 

“I’d like to get these,” the man said suddenly standing very close. Her eyes flew open and she looked up seeing him holding two books; the one he had found himself and the one she had recommended him. 

“Oh right, good decisions,” she rambled as she handled the transaction. “This one is not actually that bad. Beautiful photos really and none of those silly stories you so often find in travel books.” 

“Thanks,” he said as she handed him the bag. 

He left the shop and she almost deflated. Why was she such a babbling idiot when talking to the man? She knew she had been rambling terribly. Probably the warmth of the season was getting to her, she thought, but even when her brain had told her mouth to stop, the mouth was just kind of doing its own show. At least he had bought both books; that was great. Now if she could just not make a fool of herself next time customers came in that would be amazing.

Arabella arrived back at the bookshop with two cups of ice coffee only to see Hermione staring into space with a strange look on her face.

“Ice coffee as ordered.”

“Thanks,” Hermione blinked a few times before smiling in greeting as they set about drinking their coffee. 

“Your mind seems to be someplace else,” Arabella acknowledged. “Are the books that bad?”

“The books are pretty bad. I’m not sure how we can go on like this. Probably need to have a major sales push… really soon.”

“It’s that bad?”

“Worse, actually,” Hermione sighed deeply looking at Arabella. “I am not sure we can survive the year.”

On a street, where shops usually lasted only a few years before giving up and new shops took over,  _ The Smell of Books _ was practically an institution. It had been in Notting Hill for close to 45 years, but times were changing and the shop might soon join the statistics of shops going under. Over the last three years the store had seen a drastic decline in customers and that could be felt in the profit.

...

After closing the shop for the day Hermione decided for a short trip to Diagon Alley to take a quick glance inside Flourish and Blotts to see the newest books and maybe getting an ice cream from Fortescue’s also. It would have to be a small ice cream as that was all she could afford, but even a small threat would ease the sting of the failing bookshop; it was frustrating to know that shortly after she took over management of the shop, it started to fail.

After looking around Flourish and Blotts for a good half an hour, she went to  _ Fortescue’s Ice Cream Parlour _ . She had never known Florean Fortescue, but she had heard about him the first time Luna took her to the ice cream parlor. He had died under the Voldemort Wars, murdered by Death Eaters. The parlor was continued by Dexter Fortescue, a nephew of the late Florean. There was so much about the wizarding community in Britain she didn’t know simply because she had lived in France during the war.

She got her strawberry-and-peanut-butter ice cream, and left the parlour. It was truly a lovely day and suddenly feeling optimistic about the future, she closed her eyes enjoying the sun on her face, and with ice cream in hand, she walked directly into something solid,  _ someone _ solid. Surprised, her eyes few open as she was putting her hands out to steady herself. Her ice cream, now planted on the other person, was slowly sliding down his chest making a mess on his t-shirt. 

Oh bugger, she thought. 

“I am so sorry!” she exclaimed trying to clean the ice cream from his shirt with her hands.

“What are you doing?” he asked, shocked at seeing her hands all over his chest and he jumped a step back from her out of reach. 

Looking from the ice cream to the face of whoever she had just hit, she was surprised to realise that she recognised him. It was the customer from earlier in the day.

Their eyes met and recognition and surprise showed on his face.

Her eyes flew to her hands, which were by now also covered in ice cream, and she realised in horror what she had just done; she had groped him. 

“Nothing, nothing…!” And the last thing she expected to happen, happened. 

He laughed. 

It was not an awkward or cynical laugh, but a deep laugh that illuminated his serious expression like a sudden burst of sunlight. She looked at him in shock having expected a hex to be flying her way or maybe even a yell of sexual assault, but she was startled not only by him laughing but also by how laughing completely transformed his face. 

He just kept laughing and Hermione stood awkwardly to the side with ice cream on her hands and not sure how to clean this mess. 

“Are you okay?” she finally asked, not sure what else to do.

He looked at her again and glanced around them, they seemed to have drawn the attention of quite a few of the shoppers in Diagon Alley, which caused the man some embarrassment and distress as he quickly pulled his cap down more firmly over his eyes. 

“This way,” he gently grabbed her elbow and led her away from the crowd. He led her inside Fortescue's and with a glance backwards to see if the crowd followed them, he led her to a quiet booth in the corner. It appeared the crowd had given up when nothing more interesting happened. 

“Let me clean your hands, okay?” he said while removing his sunglasses and whipping out his wand. 

“Thanks,” she muttered holding her hands forward.

“Tergeo,” he cast and the spell removed the dried ice cream from her hands before he cast the same spell on himself. 

“I am so sorry,” Hermione said quickly trying to convey all the remorse she felt. “I was not looking where I was going at all.”

“Don’t worry about it,” his said. “It was easily fixed after all.”

“Can I get you an ice cream or something? As an apology for being so clumsy,” she asked.

“You don’t have to,” he brushed her offer off.

“A cup of tea then? Or coffee?” she suggested not deterrent by his refusal.

After a short pause he agreed to a tea, and they sat down at one of the booths at Fortescue’s.

“So travel books?” Hermione asked unwrapping her teabag. “Why does a wizard go to a Muggle bookshop in Notting Hill and not Flourish and Blotts?”

“Why is a witch woking in a Muggle bookshop?” he countered.

“I asked first,” she grinned.

“I’m specifically looking for non-magical travel books.”

“Why?” she asked genuinely curious. 

“Sometimes it’s nice to get away from it all,” he shrugged.

“Away from what? Magic?” she asked confused. 

“Away from the wizarding world,” he clarified, but she had a feeling he was not telling everything. “Isn’t that why you work in a Muggle neighborhood?”

“No,” she replied with a smile. “I just like Notting Hill, it’s such a charming area.” 

“I’m not used to anyone willingly settle in a Muggle neighbourhood,” he replied, looking at her strangely as if she was an animal in the zoo acting in strange and confusing ways.

“Whyever not?” she questioned. 

“Once Muggleborns enter the wizarding world the Muggle world just sort of disappears into the background,” he mused. It seemed it was not something he had ever really considered before, it was just the way it was.

“Are you speaking for yourself or in general terms?” she asked. It seemed like a comment she would expect from one of those traditionalist purebloods, who ran the wizarding world.

“A bit of both, I suppose. I might have grown up in the Muggle world, but I have no real ties to it anymore,” he replied, “and it’s not like we learn anything at Hogwarts that is useful in the Muggle world anyway.”

She laughed at that. “It’s the same at Beauxbatons.”

“Beauxbatons? I didn’t realise you were French,” he said surprised. “That explains why I don’t recognise you from Hogwarts.”

“I was born and raised in Britain actually, but shortly before I graduated from primary school, my parents were offered a job in France, so we moved there. I spent ten years in France before moving back,” she offered.

“Why did you decide to move back, if you don’t mind me asking?” he asked leaning forward a bit, seemingly very curious.

“No, it’s fine. I don’t have a clear answer. After I graduated I started working at the Ministry in Paris and it didn’t really bring me any joy. I felt trapped in the routines of my life and wanted a change, and Britain was still my home country so I thought I could start affresh here.”

“Why Notting Hill though?”

“Before we moved to France we lived in Notting Hill, so it seemed the logical place to go.”

“Don’t you miss France?” he asked. “It was your home for so many years?”

“That is a tricky question,” she laughed. “Don’t get me wrong. I do miss my parents, but I only spent a few months of the year in Nantes otherwise I was at Beauxbatons. I don’t actually know France that well.”

“I suppose I can understand that. But then don’t you miss your friends from school?” he challenged.

“Sure,” she admitted weakly while trying hard to figure out how to get out of the question. How do you tell someone you just met that you didn’t actually have friends at school? 

“I should get going,” he suddenly said, glancing at the clock on the wall, “but it was nice meeting you, eh... I don’t think I got your name?”

“Hermione, Hermione Granger,” she introduced herself offering her hand in greeting. 

“I’m Harry,” he replied, reaching for her hand and shaking it. 

Her face drained completely of color, as she suddenly knew exactly who he was. He was not one of Luna’s ex-boyfriends. She had seen his face shining from the frontpage of the  _ Le Monde de la Sorcellerie _ , the French newspaper she still kept a subscription to. Her eyes briefly flew to where his scar was hidden behind his cap. “Harry  _ Potter _ ?”

“Oh? You’ve heard of me,” he acknowledged in embarrassment, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand.

“I’m sure everyone in the magical world knows who you are!” she cried.

“Yeah, I know,” he sighed in frustration, before admitting, “it was really nice talking to you, when you didn’t know who I was.”

“You mean, when I told you the book you bought was terrible or when I dropped an ice cream on you?” she sighed, feeling stupid.

“Well, yeah,” he agreed with a little smile.

“I don’t do that to everyone, you know?” she replied awkwardly, making him laugh.

“Alright, I really have to go now. It was nice meeting you, Hermione.”

“It was really nice meeting you and sorry about everything,” she intoned before he walked out the door and disappeared into the crowds. 

She was in a bit of a daze as she apparated home. She saw Luna already having arrived and after a customary greeting, she said, “I don’t think you’ll believe who I ran into today.”

“Who? Someone famous?” Luna looked away from the TV to Hermione.

Suddenly, she felt bad about mentioning it since he seemed to value his privacy. “No, no. It was no one really.”

“Oh, you made it sound like you had met someone like Mr Edwardus Lima,” Luna sighed deeply looking back at the TV which was showing a documentary about deep sea animals. “Would be exciting to meet him, wouldn’t it? I’d love to pick his brain a bit. You know, he is probably the second most famous magizoologist ever. After old Scamander, of course.”

“But what if he just wanted to be left alone?” Hermione asked.

“I suppose that is why I’ve never met him, isn’t it?” Luna reasoned.

“I guess,” Hermione half-heartedly agreed, as she sat down on the sofa next to Luna, looking to the TV where a male voice was explaining how the goblin shark was named for its fearsome appearance.

“But it doesn’t look like a goblin at all,” Luna cried deeply fascinated by the Muggle documentary.

Even though she was sitting on the sofa, Hermione was not really watching the program as her mind was stuck on Harry and his laugh when she had dropped the ice cream on him. Even though he was wearing sunglasses at the time, his laugh had really lit up his face in a most charming way.

“What are you grinning about?” Luna asked, eyes still glued to the TV.

“Nothing,” Hermione grinned.


	2. In which they hang out

The next few days passed with no ice cream dropped on customers, which Hermione was quite pleased with. Though she had only talked to him briefly her mind kept going back to Harry. He had seemed like such a nice person, but she had acted like a complete lunatic in front of him, and not just once, but multiple times in the same day. It was embarrassing to even think about it, but still part of her wished he would walk into her shop again, but he didn’t. Of course he would not just show up. A girl could dream though, she decided. 

Having decided to have a big summer sale at the shop in an attempt to survive bankruptcy, Hermione and Arabella were working hard making signs and posters to hang around Notting Hill. 

“How about I hand out some of the posters to the local cafes and then buy lunch on my way back?”

“Sounds good,” Arabella agreed quickly. She would agree to any plan that involved Hermione going outside in the heat while she could stay inside with the cooling charms. 

“What do you want to eat?” Hermione asked as she grabbed her wallet and a stack of the posters. 

“How about _ Tony’s _?” the older woman suggested with a dreamy expression.

“Sure,” Hermione laughed, knowing Arabella’s weakness for Italian food. Luckily, _ Tony's Ristorante Italiano _ or _ Tony’s _ as she and Arabella usually called it, had a lunch deal where you could get two meals for the price of one. In times of saving, _ that _ was something to be admired. 

Hermione was on good terms with most of the cafes owners in Notting Hill, so they all readily agreed to let her put up posters by the door. After hanging the last poster, she went to _ Tony's _ . The line was longer than she had expected, but it went fast enough, and just an hour after she left _ Books _ she arrived back. 

“Someone came looking for you,” Arabella greeted her, grabbing the food and starting to unpack it.

“Oh, who?” Hermione asked with a frown. Better not be someone from the bank.

“Lasagne? You know me too well, Hermione,” Arabella replied looking at the food before realising what Hermione had asked. “It was a man.”

“From the bank?” she asked carefully.

“I don’t think so,” Arabella replied. “He didn’t say.”

“What did he say then?” Hermione pressed.

“Well, let’s see,” Arabella thought for a few seconds. “Mentioned something with travel books, so I assumed he was a customer. Left a note with his address somewhere around.”

“Was his name Harry by chance?” Hermione asked, hope flowing through her.

“I don’t remember,” Arabella replied digging into her food. “It was rather strange actually. He said that you could owl him, but you should send your owl to _ Doctor Ace, Potter Cottage, Godric’s Hallow,_" she grabbed a note from the top of the counter and handed it to Hermione, who carefully placed it in her pocket for safekeeping. 

“Thanks,” she said, grinning widely, as she grabbed one of the foam boxes and dug into the food.

“Were you able to hang all the posters?”

“Yes,” she smiled. “They were all really helpful.”

When Hermione arrived home after work, she dug the note with Harry’s address from her pocket. It had to be him even if the note said _ Doctor Ace. _ Maybe it was some kind of joke, she didn’t understand, or maybe it was a roommate, but _ Potter Cottage _ was a dead giveaway.

She wrote a few words to apologise for not being at the shop when he came by and included her address, so he could contact her there instead. She could be professional, so the letter was carefully worded and friendly enough to not take offence, as she assumed, he was just looking for more travel books. Though she did consider afterwards if it was professional to give out her home address to a customer.

With a sigh, she decided to put it out of her mind, so she took a shower and when she came out, Luna had arrived home. She was completely engrossed in watching Animal Planet. It still surprised her that a witch like Luna, who had seen some really fantastical animals could be so fascinated by Muggle documentaries.

“Hey, brought dinner, if you want,” Luna called when she heard the bathroom door open.

“Aren’t you just the best flatmate!” Hermione called back. “What’d you get?”

“Picked up food from one of the stalls on Portobello.”

Dressed in her most comfortable pyjamas she joined Luna on the sofa and dug into the chicken curry. 

“Oh, I just remembered!” Luna said pointing her fork at Hermione. “An owl arrived while you were showering. I received it for you.”

“Where did you put it?” Hermione asked looking about the table.

“I can’t remember,” Luna admitted. “I’m pretty sure I placed it somewhere safe, where you’d definitely find it.”

“Hmm,” Hermione sighed in frustration. “How about, in the future if you receive anything on my behalf, you just place it on the kitchen table?”

“Okay, sure! I can do that,” Luna grinned.

“You didn’t see who the owl was from, did you?”

“Yeah, it said on the back of the letter. It was from Harry Potter. Did you write for a signed photo? You know, I went to school with him, so I might be able to get you an autograph if you really want. I just didn’t think you were into all that fame.”

“Oh Luna, where did you put the letter?” she jumped up trying to decipher where Luna might have placed the letter. She checked the most obvious places like the tables and windowsills, and even the less obvious places like the refrigerator, the loo, and even under her pillow. But the message remained stubbornly hidden. Frustrated she sat down. 

Harry had taken the time to seek her out in the shop and now also written to her. She was excited about it, and as she didn’t know exactly what he wanted, she felt like she had to write back and apologise. This time the letter was not as carefully worded and came out more as a friendly message than the professional letter, she wanted to write.

_ Hi, _

_ This is going to sound really bad, but my flatmate just told me she received your letter on my behalf. However, she cannot remember where she put it and she never gave it to me. I’ll stab her to death later, unless of course, you wouldn’t mind resending your letter. _

_ I’m really sorry. _

_ Hermione _

After the letter was sent, she sat back down on the sofa with Luna trying to follow the documentary about monkeys currently showing.

“It’s really quite fascinating how human these monkeys are,” Luna said.

“Yeah?” Hermione questioned, having not really been following along.

“Just look how those capuchins make and use stone tools!”

“So they’ve entered the stone age,” Hermione laughed.

It was around nine in the evening when she heard the soft pecking of an owl at the window. She jumped up, hoping it was Harry, but telling herself to calm down and that she couldn’t expect him to contact her so fast, but to her great pleasure, it was from him. With a beaming smile she sat down with the letter.

_ Hi, _

_ You are not an easy witch to get in contact with, Hermione Granger. _

_ As I cannot have it on my conscience that your flatmate might end up dead, if I do not send this message, here we are. I hope I am not too late and that she is not already lying in a pool of blood. _

She laughed at that. Apparently he had the same sense of humor as she had, and he appeared to not take offence to her casual letter.

_ In my last letter I asked if you wanted to go for a tea while I picked your brain about travel books. _

Her heart almost stopped as she read that and she quickly reread the sentence just to be sure she had not imagined it. It was not a professional question about travel books! Sure, it wasn’t a request for friendship either, but an offer to hang out while he asked some questions about specific books.

_ Best regards, _

_ Harry _

She wrote a quick reply and they decided to meet the following day after work at a Muggle café in Notting Hill. She knew it was not a date, but she still ended up spending hours deciding on her outfit, and taming her hair before having to almost run to work just to be able to open on time. 

After closing the shop, she went to the café and waited. He was running late. 

When she had waited for close to twenty minutes, she began to get concerned whether he would show or not. She had ordered a tea and while she was sipping it, she promised herself to leave when she finished if he had not shown up. 

As she had been staring at the last few drops in the cup for a few minutes, she knew it was time to leave, so she collected her things and rose, but just as she turned to the door, Harry came rushing in. He was practically flying through the door with his hair falling chaotically around his face and his expression sour, but when he saw her, his face lit up.

“I am so sorry,” he exclaimed. “I was afraid you had left!”

“I was just about to,” she replied still standing, feeling frustrated by his tardiness. 

“When I was about to leave, the fucking press swarmed me,” he spat as he sat down. “They wanted a story and didn’t care by what means they got it.”

“What happened?” she asked confused but sitting down opposite him. 

“I work at the ministry, and when I was packing up the press stormed the Auror department. They wouldn’t leave me alone and in the end I had to apparate multiple times to try and shake them of my trail.”

“Did you succeed?” she asked confused.

“Yeah, eventually,” he replied. “I just hate it.”

“I can tell,” she said. He sounded frustrated and agitated, but he had also made her wait for half an hour, so she was not in a forgiving mood. 

He looked at her and seemed to deflate. “I apologise for showing up late and in such a bad mood.”

“I was just about to leave actually,” she said. 

“I am happy you waited,” he smiled. His smile was genuine and he seemed to relax, his shoulders lost their tense stance and she relaxed seeing him relax, “but had you left, I would I tried writing to you.”

“Ah, yes,” she laughed thinking about Luna and the lost letter from Harry, “but would that have been safe, I wonder?”

“I take it your flatmate is still alive and well then?” he smiled.

“Just barely,” she joked. “So Doctor Ace?” 

“It’s a stupid privacy thing. I get a lot of mail, but I know the letters addressed to Doctor Ace must come from someone I actually want to talk to, you know?”

“I guess I can understand that,” she replied, though not really understanding the need to hide his name like that. Since she had never had to deal with the press, she couldn’t really comprehend it, but surely it couldn’t be that bad, could it? “Has it always been like that?”

“Ever since I was eleven,” he admitted. 

“Did you ever consider moving someplace else?” she asked. Wouldn’t moving away from the problem solve it?

“Yeah, many times,” he agreed.

“Then why haven’t you?”

“It’s a bit scary,” he confessed.

“Scary? Facing Voldemort in the war sounds scary. Moving to a new country can be a bit of a hassle but it’s not scary,” she lectured.

“Alright,” he laughed. “It’s just Britain is the only home I have ever known and it’s where my family is from.”

“You family will still be there if you moved, wouldn’t they?” she asked. 

He looked at her confused. “You don’t know?” he asked surprised.

“Know what?” she questioned.

“My family is dead; have been since I was a baby.”

“Oh!” she exclaimed in embarrassment, feeling stupid. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s alright,” he replied. “It’s not often I meet someone who don’t know all the sordid details of my family.”

“I’m really sorry,” she said again. “I do remember reading something about it in _ Le Monde _years ago,” she admitted. “You were famous for surviving the attack that claimed your parents.”

“Right,” he agreed with a frowned, before questioning, “you don’t read the _ Prophet _?” Shocked that there might be someone in Britain not reading the lies of that filthy paper.

“No,” she admitted, before adding. “I read _The_ _Quibbler _sometimes.” 

“_The_ _Quibbler_?” he laughed merrily. 

“What about it?” she asked taking offense. It was actually Luna who had pushed _The_ _Quibbler _on her. At first she had not understood why; the newspaper did not make much sense and it seemed most of all like a joke, but when she saw Luna’s father was the editor, she realized why Luna pushed it so much. Now she mostly read _Le Monde _for the news and _The_ _Quibbler _for the crazy stories.

“Nothing, nothing! It’s probably a better read than the worthless _ Prophet _ anyway,” he agreed. “I was just surprised… so I was wondering,” it was not a pretty way to change the conversation, but she let him do it anyway. “What was the hardest part of moving back to Britain for you?”

“The unknown,” she said quickly. “Not knowing what I would find here. Even if I wasn’t happy in Paris I still had a good job and a steady income.”

“And friends,” he supplied. “I would think leaving your friends would be the hardest.”

“Honestly, I’ve never had close friends,” she admitted, feeling like she could trust him.

“What do you mean?” he asked surprised.

“I just never seemed to fit in. None of the other kids seemed to like me; I was always the last one picked,” she clarified.

“But what of Beauxbaton?”

“I assumed that what set me apart from all the other kids at primary school was the magic, but even at Beauxbaton I never really fit in,” she admitted, thinking of some of the jokes her classmates played on her. 

“It’s too bad that we didn’t go to the same school,” he said seriously, leaning a little closer. “I’m sure we would have been friends.”

“How so?” she asked as he drew her from her bad memories. 

“We were both loners,” he admitted. “I think we could have helped each other.”

“You were alone?” she asked surprised, “but I thought… you’ve been famous since you were a baby…”

“So you assumed I walked in fame, fortune, and friends wherever I went?”

“Well, yes,” she admitted, knowing it sounded naive when put into words.

“I was famous for something I had no recollection of doing. I was, as you said, just a baby,” he sighed deeply, “but I had absolutely no idea I was anything more than just Harry until I was accepted to Hogwarts.”

“How come?”

“I grew up with my mother’s relatives and they hated magic. I was pretty much raised a Muggle. I was alienated at primary school, and hoped for a place to belong at Hogwarts only to realise that everyone knew who I was and saw me as the hero of the wizarding world.”

“That sounds like a terrible childhood,” she blurted.

“It wasn’t fun, no,” he agreed.

For a few moments neither of them spoke, but then Hermione broke the quietness. “Suddenly it became a pretty serious conversation, didn’t it?”

With a faint smile and a short laugh, he agreed, before changing the conversation. “I actually have a question. I’ve been wondering how you ended up in a bookstore.”

“Oh, well it was actually a bit by chance. I had just had an interview at the Ministry here about a vacant position and while waiting for them to get back to me, I was wandering Notting Hill. I stumbled upon the bookshop and just fell in love with it. Meeting Arabella was great and we got along really easily. By the end of the day I felt like the bookshop was were I should be, not the Ministry, so I turned down the job, made a deal with Arabella, and started working there by the end of the week.”

“What is your favorite thing about your work?” he asked leaning back in the chair, observing her as she spoke.

“It’s when I get special commissions to find old, out-of-print, or limited books. Researching. Trying to follow specific books through history as they changed hands until I’m able to discover where the books are currently.” 

“Your eyes light up when you talk about it,” he said with a smile.

“What exactly do you do?” she asked ignoring the comment about her eyes.

“I am an Auror,” he replied.

“Really? That was not what I would have guessed,” she confessed

“What would you have guessed?” he challenged

She considered him for a few moments. “Teacher, I think, or someone who works with children.”

“Why?”

“Children would not care whether you are famous or not, and I do believe that is important to you,” she replied

“How could you possibly know that?” he asked shocked by her ease at reading him. 

“Hiding from the press and the fans behind sunglasses and a cap, preferring Muggle London to the magical world, talking of leaving the magical world behind, but still working as an Auror, a dangerous job to be sure and for what? To protect the people of the magical world. It is not the magical world or the people that you hate, but you hate that you cannot be just another person in the crowd,” she clarified. He looked at her completely taken aback, his mouth hanging open and he was unable to form words. “Therefore, it must be the fame that you hate,” she finished her analysis.

“How...?” he muttered before breaking into a wide smile. “I have no idea how you were able to do that, but you are spot on,” he laughed, shaking his head. It was probably the first time someone had understood him so well, and it was a woman he had only just met. “You truly are a breath of fresh air,” he said almost in awe. “You treat me just like a normal human being.”

She looked confused. “As opposed to… what?”

“Some rich and spoiled Saviour of the wizarding world,” he almost spat, and with a sigh he elaborated more calmly. “I know how I am presented in some of the newspapers and I find myself hoping you don’t see me like that.”

Realising he was nervous about being judged by _ her _ caught her completely by surprise. She was after all nothing special, but wasn’t that exactly what he wanted for himself? Maybe being the most famous wizard in the world was not all it was cracked up to be?

He glanced at the clock over the counter. 

“Is that the time?” he asked startled. “I have to go.”

“Oh?” she sighed, feeling kind of disappointed to see him leave. She rose from her chair to say goodbye. He had been very easy to talk to and the conversation had flown so freely. She could not remember a time when she had so connected with another human being. She liked him a lot and hoped he would want to hang out again, but before she could voice any wish for a new meeting, he leaned forward and gently pressed his lips to hers. The moment was over before it even registered in her mind. He jumped back immediately as if surprised by his own actions. 

“I must apologise,” he said, looking at her shocked expression.

“No, no,” she muttered still not quite believing what had just happened.

“I should... go, so… eh... talk to you later?” he said awkwardly before turning around and walking out of the café, leaving her staring after him. Her fingers rose by themselves to touch her lips. Had Harry Potter, Saviour of all things magical, the most famous wizard in the world, just kissed her? No, she quickly corrected herself. It not the Saviour of the Voldemort Wars who had kissed her; it was Harry, a man who had laughed when she dropped an ice cream on him. 

The kiss had not even really been a kiss, just lips touching briefly, but she was hoping it might happen again. Her mood was light and she was smiling as she walked home. 


	3. In which they go to a party

When Luna first told her about the birthday party, Hermione had agreed to come, but then she forgot all about it as it was probably the one thing she had forgotten to add to her day planner. It wasn’t until a few days before the party, when Luna made a comment about it, that she remembered. It was supposed to be a dinner party with some of Luna’s friends, all of whom were married or in serious relationships, and for once Hermione didn’t want to show up as the only single friend, so she asked Harry if he wanted to come. Even as she asked, she didn’t quite know where she stood with him. She liked him, but she was unsure if he liked her and if he had any interest in meeting her friends, but he surprised her when he readily agreed and just asked what he should bring.

When they showed up, they were greeted by Luna, who was wearing a bright yellow dress, a big smile, and her radish earrings she wore for special occasions. 

“Hermione! I’m so happy you could make it,” she grinned, hugging her close before turning to Harry with a dreamy smile. “Harry Potter, I haven’t seen you since Hogwarts! I didn’t realise Hermione was bringing you. I’m happy you could make it.”

“Thanks Luna,” he replied staring at her before handing over the gift he had brought. “I wasn’t aware you two knew each other either. Happy birthday.”

“Thank you, come in!” she showed them into the apartment.

While ridding themselves of their jackets, Harry leaned in to whisper in Hermione’s ear, “I didn’t know your flatmate was Luna Lovegood.”

“I hadn’t realised it was important,” she murmured back confused, “but I guess I should have. She did mention you were at Hogwarts together.”

A tall strawberry blond man with an apron around his waist came forward to greet them. He gave Hermione a quick hug before turning to greet Harry.

“Harry, Rolf. Rolf, Harry,” Luna introduced them quickly before turning back to Hermione.

“Hello, Harry ahm...” the man recognised Harry immediately, “Potter!”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Harry smiled, extending his hand in greeting though his eyes flickered briefly to Hermione. Excitedly, Rolf grabbed the hand and shook it, but generally seemed a bit overwhelmed by Harry’s presence. 

“I’m so happy you could come,” Luna chimed in happily to Hermione. “Neville and Hannah had to cancel, since little Augie is sick, and Susan and Justin couldn’t make it.”

“The dinner!” Rolf exclaimed suddenly, practically running back towards the kitchen with Luna following him.

“The Longbottoms?” Harry asked looking to Hermione for an answer.

“Yes, do you know Neville and Hannah also?” she replied. 

“Yeah, from Hogwarts,” he agreed.

“Did everyone attend Hogwarts at the same time,” she joked in frustration.

“Yeah, pretty much,” Harry deadpanned making her laugh and gently pushing his shoulder. When they entered the living room they could make out some of the chaos going on in the kitchen. “Should we help?”

“If by ‘helping’ you mean that we go to the kitchen and drink their wine while Rolf prepares dinner, then definitely,” she replied, making him laugh out loud. 

They had hardly arrived in the kitchen before wine glasses were pushed into their hands. 

“Have some wine,” Rolf offered before turning to stir the pots.

“Thanks.” She gently swirled the glass before sniffing it. “French?”

“Yes, for our resident French woman,” he grinned to Hermione before turning to Harry. “Hope you like it.” 

“Thank you,” Harry replied with a polite smile, sniffing the wine.

“Why don’t you go sit down while we finish dinner?” Luna asked, looking to the chaos of the kitchen. “It’s too crowded.”

Hermione led Harry to the sofa, where they sat down.

“Don’t you like the wine?” she asked noting that Harry had yet to try it.

“Honestly, I don’t touch alcohol,” he replied setting the glass down on the small table.

“Oh? I hadn’t realised,” she felt embarrassed for almost forcing the wine on Harry.

“I can’t afford to be caught acting stupid and alcohol is just a straight way to loosing control,” he clarified.

“Oh!” she sat up straight. “Every aspect of your life is controlled by the press, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” he replied sadly. “That is a fair assessment.”

“Then I suppose you don’t do impulsive things?” she guessed. “Since your life must be tightly controlled.”

“Believe it or not, since I met you, I find myself doing impulsive things on almost a daily basis,” he admitted with a wry smile.

“Like what?” she asked interested.

“Like looking for you at the shop, giving you my private address, and,” he looked straight at her, “kissing you that day in the café.”

“Was it a mistake?” she asked almost breathless, leaning just a little closer.

“No, but it was impulsive,” he replied, leaning closer to her. His hand slowly rose to caress her cheek. Their lips were only inches from touching, when Luna’s clear voice called to them.

“Dinner is ready!” They broke apart quickly and turned to face Luna, who was looking at them smugly. “Sorry to interrupt,” she grinned though not at all looking remorseful. 

Hermione looked at her friend laughing at her and turned to face Harry before they rose and joined the others at the table. 

The food looked amazing and the conversation flowed freely. Everyone seemed to enjoy themselves and Harry seemed to relax in the presence of her friends, which made her heart flutter. 

It seemed that Rolf had gotten over his first excitement at meeting Harry Potter, so Hermione was surprised when Harry left to go to the loo and almost before he had even left the room, Rolf leaned over the table and loudly whispered, “Quickly, quickly, talk quickly. What are you doing here with Harry Potter?”

“Ehm… we met a few weeks ago,” Hermione replied, not sure how to answer Rolf’s questions.

“Oh! The letter,” Luna exclaimed suddenly. “You weren’t asking for an autograph!”

“No, I was not,” Hermione laughed. 

“I can’t believe it’s Harry Potter! The Saviour of the Wizarding World, the Bane of Voldemort, the Boy Who Lived, the Conqueror of Death...!” Rolf exclaimed his voice increasing in volume as he spoke.

“No,” Hermione interrupted. “All that doesn’t matter. He’s just Harry.”

“But…?” Rolf tried confused.

“Just Harry,” she repeated firmly. 

When Harry arrived back, Rolf was back to his normal happy self, trying not to think too much on who exactly the man sitting opposite him was. “So, Harry?” he started, trying to have a normal conversation. “Why are you an Auror?”

Harry, who looked surprised by the question, easily answered, “In the beginning I joined the Auror corp to help clean out the corruption in the Ministry and to help make the wizarding world a safer place for everyone.”

“And now?” Luna asked.

“Now? I am not really sure. I guess, keeping the wizarding world safe is still a priority. I’m actually going to America next week to train with their Aurors.”

“That sounds exciting,” Rolf exclaimed. “I didn’t know the Aurors did that.”

“It’s a new programme to share knowledge,” Harry replied. 

“That’s pretty cool. My grandfather often talked of his time in America and the differences he noticed. He said the differences in history and culture made the wizarding populations evolve very differently. They are apparently less conservatione in America.”

“Your grandfather is Newt Scamander?” Harry asked.

“Yes, he and Dad are the reasons I am a magizoologist now,” Rolf acknowledged. 

“Wasn’t your father an Auror?” Luna asked looking to Harry.

“Yeah?” 

“I guess, we all kind of ended up doing what our parents were doing before us,” Luna laughed. “Potter the Auror, Scamander the magizoologist, Lovegood the journalist, and Granger the… eh” she suddenly stopped as she looked at Hermione. “Oh!”

“Granger the what?” Hermione asked innocently. 

“Oh, but it was going so well until you,” Luna complained. “Why aren’t you in your family business?”

“Because dentistry is not a field that interests me,” she admitted with a smile, before adding. “We can’t all follow in our parents' footsteps, can we, Miss I-want-to-be-a-magizoologist?” Everyone at the table laughed at that, including Luna. 

“How is it going at the shop?” Rolf asked.

“Terribly,” she replied honestly.

“Oh?” He seemed to not know what to reply to that.

“How terrible?” Harry asked instead.

“Terrible enough that we don’t expect to survive the year,” she admitted. “We are very close to bankruptcy.”

“Can’t something be done?” he asked.

“Well, if we could lure new customers that might help,” she said. “So far we’ve been putting up posters all over Notting Hill, but I don’t think it’s going to be enough.”

“I’m sorry to hear it,” he replied.

“Thank you,” she acknowledged.

After dinner had been cleared from the table, Rolf showed Harry his most prized possession, a first edition of his grandfather's book. Harry was duly impressed and asked a few questions about magizoology. 

Luna turned to Hermione, and grilled her while the boys were busy talking. “I’ve never seen Harry as relaxed as he is with you. Granted I didn’t see him much since Hogwarts, but he was always so tense and guarded. Did you sleep with him?”

“No… no comment!” Hermione sputtered, shocked by the direct question. 

“‘No comment’ means ‘yes’,” Luna nodded in confirmation.

“No, it doesn’t!” 

“Do you ever masturbate?” 

“Definitely no comment!” 

“You see? ‘No comment’ means ‘yes’,” Luna grinned widely. 

“Luna!” 

“What?” she replied, turning big innocent eyes to face Hermione. The effect was rather understated by a sly grin.

“You are incorrigible,” Hermione finally said, laughing too. The two women went to join the men for a few hours more of pleasant conversation before Harry and Hermione left the party together. 

…

After the party, they wandered around London just talking and enjoying spending time together. It seemed neither of them were in a hurry to get away.

“Did you have a good time?” Hermione asked.

“Yeah, I did,” he agreed. “I met Luna at Hogwarts, but we were never friends. It was good seeing her. She seems like a nice person.”

“She might be a little unconventional, but she’s one of the best people I’ve ever met,” Hermione replied, smiling fondly.

“How did you meet?” 

“Shortly after I took over  _ Books _ , she came in asking for help finding information about the Crumple-Horned Snorkack,” she said.

“Ah, how do you respond to such a request?”

“At first I needed her to clarify what exactly a Crumple-Horned Snorkack was, since I had no idea, and somewhere in that conversation I promised to dig up whatever information I could find, which wasn’t a lot, but she was grateful anyway. I had put up a notice looking for a lodger and she saw it. Somehow it evolved from there and we just got along really well,” she replied. 

“It seems like such a chance meeting,” he mused.

“Coincidence and happenstance seem to rule my life no matter how much I plan,” she laughed. 

“I suppose, in life you can never plan for everything,” he agreed. 

“Is that how your life was?” she asked, sensing there was more to his comment.

“Let’s just say, it felt like my life was planned in detail but not by myself. I felt almost like a prisoner, and then all those carefully laid plans ended up being worth nothing. Things that weren’t planned happened, and everything else fell to the ground,” he replied vehemently.

“The war?” she asked, and he nodded. “Do you want to talk about it?” she asked gently, taking his hand.

He turned to look at her and seeing compassion in her eyes made him relax. “No,” he whispered squeezing her hand. 

“Alright,” she smiled.

“That’s it?” he asked, surprised when she didn’t say more.

“Excuse me?” 

“You’re not going to demand that I tell you?” he asked, surprise clearly marking his face.

“No, why would I?” she replied confused. “If you want to talk about it, then of course I will listen and offer my support, but since you don’t want to talk about it, why should I try to force you…,” she looked at him strangely. “Do you want me to keep asking about it?”

“No, no.” He finally seemed to relax. “You are something else.”

“I am just confused,” she admitted with a wry smile. 

“I heard what you said to Rolf,” he said quietly, changing the subject. “I didn’t mean to listen, but you guys were not exactly quiet… I don’t think I can express how much it means to me that you see me, you know, the real me.” 

She raised her hand to caress his cheek. “I like you Harry, not for what you’ve done in your past but for the man I’ve gotten to know over the last couple of weeks.” 

She leaned in and gently pressed her lips to his. The kiss was sweet but over too soon.

“I have a house not far from here. Do you want to come?” he asked almost shyly.

She looked at him; they both knew what he was really asking. “There must be a million reason why I shouldn’t.”

“Probably, but do you want to?” he asked. His voice was light and hopeful.

“Yes,” she grinned.

He led her along a very unassuming street until they arrived at a small square. 

“Grimmauld Place,” she read on the sign.

“It’s been in my godfather’s family for generations, and when he died, I inherited it. After Hogwarts, I spent most of my time here,” he told her as he led her to the door for number 12. As he opened the door, he immediately tensed and drew his wand. “Something’s wrong,” he whispered. “Wait here.” Slowly, he crept along the walls.

As he reached the door at the end of the hallway, he pushed it open quickly, pointed his wand, and yelled, “hands in the air!”

“Harry?” a female voice came from within the room. 

“Ginny?” Harry asked confused but lowered his wand. “What are you doing here?”

“I needed a place to stay.” She moved forward towards Harry and came into Hermione’s line of vision. She was a gorgeous woman with long, red hair hanging loosely around her shoulders. “Since we got engaged the wards have…,” she cut off as she saw Hermione. “Who are you?” the woman asked confused, looking at Hermione. 

“Hermione,” Hermione replied, looking between Harry and the woman. “Did you say  _ engaged _ ?!” Hermione looked at Harry in bewilderment. What was going on? 

“Past tense,” Harry said.

“Oh?”

“I think the last time I saw Ginny was when she broke up with me,” he told Hermione while looking at Ginny. “Why are you here?” he asked again.

“It’s… eh… private,” she muttered, glancing to Hermione before she begged, “Please, Harry.”

“I… eh… should probably get going,” Hermione said, turning and heading back towards the door. Something weird was going on, and she could not, in her slightly drunk mind, make sense of it.

“Hermione wait!” Harry said as he followed her towards the door. 

“It’s alright,” she replied calmly, shock making her unable to formulate a proper response. 

As she left the house, she apparated home, her brows furrowed in confusion. She didn’t understand what had just happened, but she would trust Harry to tell her later. She trusted him. 

This gorgeous woman called Ginny was just a past fiancée, no big deal, she tried to tell herself as she got ready to go to bed.

“No big deal,” she muttered as she closed her eyes, but she felt very plain next to the redhead. 


	4. In which they go on a date

_ Dear Hermione, _

_ Please accept my apology for the unexpected end to an otherwise lovely evening. _

_ If you have time on Friday would you go on a date with me? I promise to explain a bit more. _

_ Best wishes, _

_ Harry _

...

The letter from Harry arrived early the next morning before she headed out for work. She read and reread it throughout the day before she finally replied. She was equal parts frustrated with him and curious about the entire affair, and hoped Harry would explain what was going on, so in the end she accepted the invitation.

They met at a restaurant in Muggle London near Diagon Alley.

“Again, I must apologise for the other night,” he said as they sat down and he looked over the menu card.

“You don’t have to,” she smiled, focussed only on him, “but, please, explain what happened?”

“I’ve promised Ginny my secrecy,” he replied casually. 

Her teeth grated as he so casually referred to keeping secrets with his ex-fiancée; perhaps the redhead was not so much of an ex anyway. “Why? Who exactly is she?” she asked, willing herself to calm down and let him explain. 

“I guess you need to know some of our story to be able to understand,” he started. 

“Your ‘story’?” she asked feeling more and more certain he was still involved with the other woman, and she did not wish to get into that kind of drama. 

“Yeah,” he agreed, not at all picking up on her unease. “Ginny was my best friend’s kid sister. Ron and I met on the train to Hogwarts when we were eleven, and he became a brother to me. His family took me in, helped me, supported me. They became my family. Ginny and I started dating and everyone just assumed we would marry. We believed it too and we never really questioned it.”

“So what happened?” 

“Ginny’s on the British Quidditch team. At a match at the World Cup, she met a player from Australia. I’m not quite sure what happened, but I guess they fell passionately in love. All I really know is that she broke up with me and left for Australia.”

“And you haven’t seen her since?” Hermione asked, shocked by his explanation.

“No,” he admitted. 

“Were you happy to see her?”

“What do you mean?”

“You said, she left you,” Hermione reminded him and he nodded. “Are you still in love with her? Were you happy to see her?” She clarified, dreading the answer.

“No,” he smiled, but her frustrations was making it impossible for her to accept his answer.

“How can you be sure?” she challenged. “If you haven’t seen her in weeks…”

“Ginny left six months ago,” he said, “but that was just the end of an already doomed relationship. We both knew where it was headed.”

“How so?” she looked at him curiously.

“We had nothing in common.” 

“What do you mean?”

“She wanted to pursue a Quidditch career, while I wanted to get away from the spotlight. She wanted to go to parties, while I wanted to stay home. Those sorts of things.”

“Ah, I see how that might be a problem,” she agreed, “but then why did you not end it before?”

“We had been together for a long time and there was stability in that.”

“I suppose I can understand that,” she admitted thinking of her ex-boyfriend. “But why was she in your house?”

“She hoped to hide out for a few days to just get her feet on the ground. As I don’t usually use the house, she thought she could hide without letting me know.”

“How could she just enter your house without your knowledge?” Hermione challenged.

“When we got engaged, I changed the wards,” he admitted. “I just never thought of changing them back.”

”You really have an answer for everything, don’t you?” she asked with a small smile.

“I want you to understand,” he replied.

“Why?”

“Because I like you, Hermione Granger,” he said, looking her directly in the eye. “Yesterday, after you left I wanted to run after you. Ginny was important in my past, but I hope you will be important for my future.”

“Oh,” she blushed, unsure what to say. No one had ever said anything like that to her.

“What I feel about you is something I never felt before,” he said leaning over the table, taking her hands. “You make me…”

“Harry Potter!” A shrill female voice almost yelled, interrupting them and drawing the attention of the other patrons in the restaurant. 

“Ehm,” Harry glanced at the woman. Hermione could see he was annoyed at being interrupted. Letting go of Hermione’s hands, he turned to the woman with a pleasant smile on his face. “I’m sorry, do I know you?”

“Of course,” the woman yelled. “I’m Lavender Brown from Hogwarts. We were in the same class.”

“I am sorry, but I don’t remember you,” Harry replied kindly. “We are on a date...”

“That’s okay,” the woman interrupted, sitting down at the table. “You are my celebrity crush and my husband said it would be okay if I were to sleep with you, and he would watch and...”

Harry looked at the woman in complete shock, before turning to Hermione, looking a little green.

That’s it, Hermione thought to herself. 

“Hey,” she said loudly, interrupting the woman. “You can’t just talk like that.”

“Why shouldn’t I?” the woman turned to Hermione with a frown. 

“You are talking about a real person. I think, he deserves a little more consideration, rather than having someone like you drooling over him.”

“Sod off,” the woman yelled.

“Don’t talk to her like that,” Harry lectured, finally getting mad when the woman focussed on Hermione.

“Oh no, I’m sorry, Harry,” the woman turned back towards him with tears in her eyes.

Harry, having had enough, rose to his feet. “You don’t know me, so don’t talk to me like that.” He turned to Hermione. “Let’s get out of here.”

She rose and they left the restaurant quickly. They looked around, unsure what to do. 

“Come on, I know where we can get some food, if we hurry,” she said, grabbing his arm and apparated across the city to Notting Hill. A few of the food stalls were still open, so they quickly made their orders and found a bench to sit down to eat.

“This was not what was I thinking when I asked you on a date,” Harry laughed, as he held up the aluminium food tray containing the paella he ordered.

“I bet it wasn’t,” she laughed, “but admit it, the food here is amazing.”

“And so is the company,” he countered, winking at her.

They enjoyed their impromptu dinner, and afterwards just walked around the neighbourhood for awhile. 

Somehow they found themselves in front of the door to her house. She hadn’t realised she had been leading him that way until they were there. 

“This is me,” she said pointing to the blue door. She turned to face him with a smile, unsure what to say. “Do you want to come up?” she asked nervously, knowing full well that Luna would be staying at Rolf’s for the evening. 

“Yes,” he replied with a little smile. 

With a wide grin she grabbed his hand and led him inside the house and to her bedroom. They stood and watched each other for a few seconds then he took a step closer to her, cradled her face in his hands before lowering his mouth to hers. The kiss was slow and when he broke it, he leaned back a little and looked at her fondly.

“Are you sure? Is this want you want?” he asked, uncertainty shining in his eyes.

She blinked, momentarily confused by the unexpected question, before realising he was still uncertain about her feelings. 

“Yes.”

He leaned in, nibbling her lower lip gently, before capturing her mouth in a passionate kiss. His tongue swept her lips before he deepened the kiss by dipping his tongue between her slightly parted lips. The kiss grew urgent as their tongues danced around each other. 

Her hands found their way to his shirt and she flicked the buttons loose slowly, one by one until she could push the shirt from his shoulder. In a fluid motion he grabbed her shirt and lifted it over her head. Her arms rose automatically to better help him remove the garment. 

With a hand caressing her cheek before finding its way to the back of her neck, and the other at her lower back, he pressed her flush against him, and she could feel his erection. The heat and the physical evidence of his arousal, sent her blood racing and she needed to feel him closer. Her hands shot forward, and she fumbled with the button of his pants, but it was not coming free.

“Get these off,” she murmured, making him grin. With deft hands he freed the button, but his eyes focussed on her hands while she was fumbling with the button on her own jeans. 

“Let me help,” he said hoarsely as he stepped closer and quickly rid her of the garment. His eyes roamed her figure, only clad in her underwear, with hunger. 

With a groan, his hands cupped her cheekbones and held her still. “I want you so much,” he murmured as his hands slid back and grabbed her hair. His lips drove down on hers with an explosive hunger that took her breath away, making her shiver. She kissed him back eagerly. Already she ached for him, keenly aware of the hot pulse between her legs. 

With a groan low in his throat he led her to the bed and she settled herself against the pillows. Discarding his pants, he jumped on the bed and came down on her. 

Their underwear seemed to disappear during another round of passionate kissing. His hands made their way down her body, stroking her skin, and he paused for just a moment at the base of her womanhood, before he slid a finger into her, making her tremble in his arms.

“You are so wet…,” he mused, while his finger stroked her, making her whimper.

“I need you,” she moaned while her hands were reaching for him.

He shifted away from her, removing his finger, and placing himself at her entrance. Inquiring eyes found hers, and he seemed to find what he was looking for, as he entered her in a deep thrust. With a groan he slid home wrenching a moan from her lips. Buried deep inside of her, he gazed at her with a new wildness in his eyes.

“We could race for the finish line,” he suggested huskily and she saw he was struggling with control. She could feel he was already throbbing as if he could come at any moment. “Just this once?”

“Please,” she replied breathlessly angling her hips to better accommodate him. Her heart was hammering while the sensation of him thrusting in and out of her overwhelmed her and sent waves of pleasure cascading over her. Nothing had ever felt as intense as him pushing into her and a burning pleasure build every time he hit home. Drowning in pleasure, she felt him lose control as he thrust into her harder and faster. Not as close to the peak as he was, her hand slid down her stomach to find the sensitive spot, playing with herself while he increased the pace. His eyes were focussed on her hand pleasuring herself and he groaned deep in his throat. 

The pleasure was building until suddenly it exploded and engulfed her, leaving her gasping for air as she fell from the height of pure bliss back to the real world. She heard him groan, and felt him shudder as he reached his own release. 

Dazed, she reached for him and their lips met in a slow kiss. 

In the aftermath, he softly kissed her across her brow and carefully brushed away the strands of her curly hair sticking to her sweaty face. Her heartbeat was slowly subsiding.

“I didn’t mean to rush it,” he husked in her ear.

“I liked it,” she murmured in a forgiving mood. “You can show me what else you can do in the morning.”

With a hoarse laugh he replied, “I’ll be happy to.” 

She nestled herself against him as his arms engulfed her, and with a smile on her face she went to sleep. 

...

The sun was shining through the curtains, and she could hear the soft bustling of life outside as the tourists descended on Notting Hill. For a moment, Hermione couldn’t place what day it was, but then she felt the unmistakable presence of another human being in the bed and the memories of the day before came back to her. 

She turned to face Harry with a, “Good morning.”

“Morning,” he replied looking at her fondly. 

She looked at him closely, he appeared to have been awake for awhile. “Awake long?”

“No, not that long,” he acknowledged. “I’ve just never been able to sleep well.”

“Oh?” she didn’t know what to say to that, so she just snuggled against him; half lying on top of him with her head on his chest.

“Last night,” he started, and she turned to look at him, a soft pink tinge marking his cheeks. “It had been a long time for me and you… you were so sexy, I couldn’t…”

He looked embarrassed and she found it incredibly cute to see him so vulnerable, but she wasn’t about to tell him that. Instead, she decided to be honest with him. “For me too,” she admitted before reaching a hand to trace his bottom lip with her index finger, “but you won't see me complaining.” 

“I hope not,” he laughed. With a shift motion of his head he caught her finger between his teeth and let his tongue brush against the tip.

She closed her eyes to enjoy the sensual way his tongue alternated between stroking and sucking her finger. 

“But let’s try again.” He smirked, letting go of her finger and quickly flipping them around so she was lying on her back and he was raised on his elbows to look down at her. The motion shifted the duvet and his eyes caught her naked breasts, following the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed.

“What is it with men and breasts?” she asked.

“No idea,” he tried innocently between planting soft kisses on her lips while his hand slowly caressed her body, cupping her breasts. 

“No seriously. I mean, they are odd-looking. They’re for milk. You must have seen thousands of them already. What’s the fuss about?”

“Beats me,” he replied. “I guess, the question requires some investigations, I volunteer myself for this study.”

“Oh you do, do you?” she grinned.

“I do, and it just so happens I have located a very nice pair of tits within reach to study,” he replied finally raising his eyes to look at her. 

“Oh?” she smiled. 

“But the question is; which breast do I start with.” he replied before his eyes travelled at a leisurely pace over her chest. 

“You could toss a coin.” she suggested helpfully with a smirk.

“Or I could just explore,” he laughed. “Let’s see how you react if I do this…” he flicked her nipple and watched as it grew hard. “Hmm, interesting,” he grinned while he flicked the other nipple and watched as it too grew hard. 

He leaned down, and as his mouth engulfed the pink tip and gently licked it, she felt her back arch towards him. She could feel the heat pooling between her legs. _ More _, her mind supplied, but the words ended in a gasp as they left her mouth. He, however, seemed to know how to interpret it, as he sucked the sensitive peak while his hand cupped the breast not currently being tormented by his mouth, rubbing and teasing her swollen bud, making her moan in pleasure. 

Her hands found their way to his dark hair and gently pulled. With a soft pop, the nipple left his mouth as he allowed her to pull him up. She rose to capture his lips in a passionate kiss. Hands on both sides of his face, she held him as her lips crushed against his. Their tongues met in a passionate dance. Gasping for air they finally broke apart.

“I guess you liked that,” he grinned.

“Very,” she confirmed shakily.

“But I hadn’t finished my exploration yet,” he purred as he gently pushed her back down on the bed and leaned in to kiss her neck.

“Harry,” she moaned, her hands raked across his chest, trying to pull him closer, but this time he did not heed her command. Instead, he ran his hands down her body, finding the nest of curls crowning her womanhood and letting his fingertips brush against the soft peak. With a moan she slid her thighs apart. His eyes roamed her body before locking with her’s. He stared at her in wonder and pure satisfaction. 

“You are so beautiful,” he confessed as he kissed his way down her body. 

She gasped as two of his fingers separated the lips of her womanhood. With his face between her thighs, he blew. The cool air shocked and excited her at the same time. He lowered his head and, using his tongue, he stroked her, causing her to gasp and moan in delight. 

One finger, quickly followed by another slipped inside her. With a groan, he moved his fingers in and out of her slick wet heat. Deep inside her, she could feel his fingers moving in a delicious, but slow and almost maddening pace, while he kept licking and sucking her with that talented tongue. 

“Please...,” she begged in a weak voice, though she didn’t know what she was begging for. 

As his fingers increased their pace, curling just right to fill her and hit that magical spot, she uttered a strangled moan. Her eyes fell closed as she almost unconsciously pushed herself closer to his tormenting fingers and the maddening mouth stroking gently against that sweet, pleasurable spot. 

The pleasure was building and her whimpers and moans increased in volume. As if controlled by a carnal need, her hands found their way to her breasts, pinching and swirling the nipples as her back arched. 

As the orgasm ripped through her, she cried his name while she came hard against his mouth, and her body tightened around his fingers.

“So beautiful,” he muttered quietly to himself in amazement. His fingers slowly kept stroking her, prolonging her pleasure, while she fell back into the pillows. When the aftershakes of the orgasm eased, he slowly crawled up her body, removing his fingers. 

“That was…,” she laughed in a hoarse voice, “amazing.”

She grabbed his face and crushed her mouth on his. As the kiss deepened she could taste herself on him. As he broke the kiss to look at her, she parted her legs willingly for him, and for a moment he paused as he savoured the picture of her spread out before him, but then he grabbed her legs and placed himself at the entrance to her slick, wet heat. 

Unable to wait for him, she hooked her legs behind his back and pushed herself against him, impaling herself on him with a deep moan, forcing a deep groan from him. His hands grabbed her hips, and he pulled her hard against him until he was completely sheathed. 

“Harry,” she moaned, savoring the feeling of their bodies pressed so intimately against each other. 

“You feel incredible,” his voice quivered a little as he leaned down to brush his lips against hers.

He pulled out slowly before plunging roughly back in. His base pressing against her in the most delightful way every time he slid home. The thrust were slow, but completely engulfed her in pleasure. She rocked her hips to meet his thrusts, and he responded by moving faster and thrusting harder. 

She couldn’t get enough of him and she met him thrust for frantic thrust. They reached the peak at the same time, the explosion of pure bliss sending ripples through their bodies. 

He released a harsh groan of masculine satisfaction as he released inside her, and her body shuddered, clenching around him, dragging the climax out. He remained deep inside her while his breathing slowly subsided. When their bodies ceased convulsing, he carefully collapsed onto the bed next to her and encircled her in his arms. 

“That was wonderful,” she said stretching an arm across his chest.

“You don’t think we are finished, do you?” he grinned.

“But...?” she looked at him in wonder.

“I seem to recall a promise made last night,” he replied, smirking at her.

“I wasn’t really complaining yesterday, you know?” she said.

“But I’m sure we can do better,” he countered kissing her throat while his hand slowly caressed her body.

“Oh,” her mouth formed the word, but it came out more of a moan.


	5. In which it is the morning after

The aroma of freshly prepared coffee and toast hung in the air in the small kitchen. Hermione and Harry were sitting around the table having just finished a _ very _late breakfast; sipping coffee and just coexisting. It was a beautiful day in London, but neither of them had eyes for anything but the other. 

“I would have pegged you as a tea person,” Harry said looking at her.

“Am I not allowed to enjoy both?” she replied, smiling holding the coffee close to her nose. 

“You are definitely allowed to,” he chuckled, seeing her expression of complete satisfaction as she sipped the coffee. 

She grinned, “I’m sure…,” she started, but cut herself off as the front door was yanked open.

Luna walked in, looking a little worse for wear, but still smiling widely when seeing them. 

“Oh hello,” she smirked. “Having breakfast at three in the afternoon; someone must have had a fun night.”

“I could say the same of you,” Hermione countered, taking in Luna’s disheveled appearance. “I thought you’d be a Rolf’s the entire weekend.”

“I thought so too,” she complained, sighing deeply, “but Dad asked me to help him with the paper.” She grabbed a piece of toast as she walked past the table. “So I’m just here to change my clothes and eat your food. I’ll be out of your hair soon enough.” 

Less than five minutes later, Luna was on her way, having changed and looking presentable. 

“Have fun,” she greeted them, and just as she was about to close the front door, she called, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“She’s a bit of a whirlwind,” Hermione commented.

“That she is,” Harry agreed.

For a while a peaceful silence settled between them as they enjoyed each other’s company, but it was broken shortly after by Hermione. 

“Hey,” she said.

“Yes?” he replied 

“You’ve got big feet.”

“Well, yes, always had,” he replied with a smile, wiggling his toes. “Is that a problem?”

“No, not at all, but do you know what they say about men with big feet?” she asked seriously, fighting to keep a straight face having thought of a joke.

“No, what’s that?”

“Big feet, large shoes,” she grinned, forcing a strained chuckle from him.

“That was a bad joke, but I suppose it is true enough,” he admitted. 

“Wait!” she pronounced, as she thought of another joke. “How about, ‘they say, “damn, you got big feet”’?”

“Surprisingly, I don’t hear that often,” he complained though grinning. “No one usually makes jokes about my feet.”

“That’s too bad,” she replied, trying hard to keep a straight face. “They are big enough to warrant many jokes.”

“Hey!” he grinned feigning hurt, breaking a small piece from his toast and throwing it at her. 

...

Hours later, they had progressed from the kitchen to the living room. They were sitting on the sofa with the TV turned on. Actually, only Harry was sitting, as Hermione was practically laying on top of him, while he was gently playing with her hair. They were watching one of Luna’s animal documentaries about deep sea animals. 

“How come you are single?” he asked.

“I guess, I never met anyone whom I could see myself settling down with,” she answered honestly.

“Why did your last relationship end?”

“My last serious relationship was before I left France,” she replied as if that answered everything.

“What happened?”

“It had become a relationship of convenience,” she said, but upon his inquiring look, she elaborated. “It was more convenient to be together than to break up, but we reached a point where I couldn’t remember any of the reasons why I loved him and he said another girl’s name during sex.”

“That’s not good.”

“No, not for our relationship, but I think Victor ended up marrying the girl, so for her it was probably very good,” she grinned. 

“It doesn’t bother you?” 

“Not anymore, no. Victor and I were never meant to be,” she replied. It had hurt at the time, but she quickly moved on, and now she could look at what she shared with Victor as memory from another time. “It’s been years.”

“When…” 

Suddenly there was a loud knock on the door, interrupting them. 

“Who can it be at this time?” she wondered aloud, looking to Harry with a frown while she rose to answer the door.

“Maybe Luna forgot her keys when she left?” he suggested, slowly raising to follow her.

She opened the door and was met with an explosion of light. Flashing cameras and thousands of questions were thrown her way, but she was unable to take any of it in. Never in her life had she seen so many reporters at one place; they seemed to fill the entire street. She stood frozen in place, while the cameras flashed and the reporters yelled questions her way.

“... Harry Potter…”

“... lovers…”

“... Muggle neighbourhood…”

_ SLAM _

The door slammed shut with a loud bang. She slowly turned to see Harry having slammed the door, hands still firmly pressed against it.

“Oh god, what was that?” she murmured.

“The fucking press,” he replied, agitated, before adding in an accusing tone, “How did this happen?”

“I have no idea,” she said, not liking the sound of betrayal in his voice.

“I do. Your flatmate decided to help her father’s failing paper with a breakthrough story about me,” he spat agitatedly.

“That’s not true!” she tried to reason.

“Really? So the entire wizarding press just woke up this morning and thought, ‘Hey, I know where I can find a good story about Harry Potter; behind a blue door in Notting Hill!’” 

“Luna wouldn’t do it!” she said, trying to calm him down, “but even if she did, when set against more important things, this stuff doesn’t matter.”

He looked at her, completely taken aback.

“I mean, if we just look at this from a normal perspective, it becomes a complete triviality!” she pressed. 

“A triviality?” he replied with a sneer. “But of course, you’re right. It’s just I had to deal with this shit since I was eleven years old. Our perspectives on what is normal might be quite different.”

“But today’s newspapers will be lining tomorrow’s waste bins,” she tried to reason.

“Excuse me?” 

“Well, you know… it’s just one day. Today’s papers will all be thrown away tomorrow. Yesterday’s papers, yesterday’s news...”

“You don’t get it, do you?” he hissed, interrupting her. “This story will be filed, the pictures will be saved. Every time they write anything about me, this will come back. Newspapers last forever! And they got a photo of you dressed like that.”

She looked down at herself and noticed she was quite clearly wearing Harry’s shirt and not much else. It could not really be a secret what they had been up to. She looked to Harry only to see him burning with anger, his arms locked over his chest. She had never seen him angry before, and she didn’t know how to make it better. 

“Let’s try and stay calm about this,” she reasoned.

“You stay calm!” he flung back at her, sounding almost like an angry child.

“Don’t be childish,” she admonished.

He looked at her, chagrined by her comment, and said the worst thing he could think of. “It’s the perfect situation for you, isn’t it? Minimum effort, maximum publicity! You might even be able to save your shop, and all you had to do was shag the Chosen One!” 

“That’s completely unfair!” she exploded in anger, feeling betrayed by that portrayal of herself.

Harry was completely taken aback by her sudden anger, and the surprise momentarily froze him. For a moment, neither spoke; they just stared at each other, unsure how to proceed. 

“This has got to be one of my biggest mistakes,” he muttered, turning away from her in frustration. 

She took that in with a deep breath. That one comment really spoke volumes of what he thought of her; his biggest mistake. 

“Right,” she finally said, hurt by his dismissal. “I think you should leave. Now.”

He froze before slowly turning to face her, his eyes flying to her pale face and remaining there for a long moment. “Hermione…,” he tried, the anger having left him already, but now she was too angry with him to listen.

“Get out!” she screamed interrupting him. Her face a thundercloud. She had never been as angry before in her life as she was in that moment. “Leave me alone!”

With a last look at her, he swung on his heels and strode out of the room, heading for the Floo.

“And don’t ever come back!” she shouted after him, her voice breaking. 

She heard, more than she saw, the roar of the Floo as he left, as her eyes were glistening with tears. He had left, and as she stood there in the empty house, she felt completely stunned. A single tear was slowly running down her cheek, her legs gave out under her, and she landed on the floor like a ragdoll as the blankness of shock overwhelmed her. 

BANG BANG BANG.

Sudden loud knocks on the door startled her, making her halfway jump out of her skin. Part of her wanted to yell at the reporters, even send a hex or two at them, but that would not help. Instead she grabbed her wand and muttered, “Quietus.” 

The sudden quietness of the house completely overwhelmed her, and she realised she was all alone. How had her life suddenly been turned upside down like that? It had almost been like she had been living in a time capsule, where only she and Harry existed, and then suddenly it had been ripped apart for the world to see. Something inside of her broke. 

Shattered. That was the best word to describe how she felt. Her heart was shattered in a million pieces. 

The biggest mistake of his life; that was what he had called her. That remark hurt more than anything she had ever experienced before in her life. She had fallen head over heels in love with a guy who only saw her as his biggest mistake. She hadn’t meant to risk her heart, but it had been so natural, so easy.

“I love him,” she muttered, as the tears were running down her cheeks.

...

Hermione woke with a burning headache. It was two days since Harry left, and she had spent all that time in bed alternating between crying her eyes out and cursing Harry’s name. 

By the time Monday came around, she decided the best way to deal with a broken heart was to simply ignore it and suppress her emotions. She rose from the bed, dressed, even put on a bit of makeup, and went to the shop. As she walked down Portobello, she found herself disliking all the tourists. They were everywhere and crowded up her neighbourhood. Why couldn’t they just go away!?

Arriving at the shop, she was already in a bad mood. Arabella quickly noticed the storm clouds surrounding her. After a few tries to get her to talk, she gave up. It was another quiet morning in the shop, so it was no problem for Hermione to hide behind the counter while Arabella chatted to the customers.

“Do you have the new John Grisham thriller?” a male voice asked Hermione.

“No,” she replied, not even looking at the customer.

“You didn’t even check!” he said agitated.

“I know we don’t have it,” she hissed back.

“Could you check?”

“NO, I COULD NOT CHECK,” she yelled in a mocking tone. 

Arabella, having heard the exchange, came rushing over. “Hermione!” she said harshly, before she gently took the customer away and tried to placate him, but he still left the shop in a huff. “That’s no way to talk to customers. What has gotten into you?” she admonished after the customer left.

“I’m sorry, Arabella,” Hermione replied, feeling mad at herself for yelling at a customer.

Arabella could see Hermione was remorseful, so her frustration deflated. “Dear girl, what has happened? You are not yourself today.”

She could feel the tears threatening to fall. “Please, can you watch the shop today? I need to… not be here.”

“Of course,” Arabella smiled, hugging Hermione. “I can hold the fort today, no problem.”

For the first time since Hermione started working at _ Books_, she really didn’t look forward to walking home. For once, the ten minute walk was not appealing to her. Instead she rushed into the back of the shop, and apparated home in a cloud of self-pity.


	6. In which life is not easy

Quietly, Luna knocked on the door to Hermione’s bedroom. When no sound came from within, she opened the door and found Hermione huddled up in bed, buried under the duvet and multiple blankets.

“Hey Mionie,” Luna greeted gently, crossing the room to sit on the edge of the bed. She studied Hermione’s shadowed, swollen eyes without comment. “I went by _ Books _, but Arabella said you had left early.”

“Go away, Luna,” Hermione mumbled, looking at Luna quickly, before burying herself deeper into the pillows of the bed. 

“Hermione, love. You can’t stay in bed all day.”

“Watch me,” she choked as tears welled up and rolled down her cheeks. “Hang on, why were you at _ Books_?” She popped her head out of the blankets and looked at Luna in confusion. 

“Ehm, I needed to talk to you, silly,” she laughed. 

“About what?” Hermione pressed.

“Ehm, it can wait,” she replied, trying to deflect the question.

“Luna, tell me what happened!” Hermione commanded.

“Alright,” Luna gave in. “I saw the morning edition of _The Daily Prophet _ and had to make sure you were okay.”

“Show me,” she begged, thinking of the reporters and all the cameras outside their house on Saturday evening.

Luna slowly dug the paper out of her bag and handed it to Hermione. “It’s all lies.”

Hermione unfolded the paper and stared straight at a picture of herself wearing only Harry’s shirt. Harry could be seen in the background looking murderous. It was not a flattering picture, and she feared what the accompanying article would say.

_ The Daily Prophet - July 10th 2006 _

_ Harry Potter’s Muggle Lover Revealed! _

_ By Rita Skeeter _

_ Harry Potter, the fiancé of Quidditch prodigee Ginevra Molly Weasley, has been caught in an extremely outrageous affair with a Muggleborn witch! _

_ This shocking story of the hero considered by many to be the greatest wizard of his generation revolves around a ruthless and rather obnoxious witch. The homewrecker in question, a Miss Hermione Granger, is a Muggleborn witch of English birth, who fled the country during the Voldemort Wars because she was not brave enough to remain and fight. Miss Granger, a plain but ambitious girl, seems to have developed a taste for rich and famous wizards. Her last prey, sources report, was none other than the Bulgarian Bonbon Viktor Krum, most famously known for being the captain of the Bulgarian Quidditch team and married to French beauty starlet Fleur Delacour. _

_ “She just wants the attention,” Lavender Brown, an acquaintance of Miss Granger, said. “I know her very well. She is so rude and is totally just after Harry’s fame and money.” _

_ We have been able to discover that Granger owns an unsuccessful bookshop in the Muggle neighbourhood of Notting Hill called _ The Smell of Books, _ but the stench of a gold digger hangs about her, as she exploits the naive Harry Potter. He grew up without the love of his parents, so it is no wonder that he struggles to see the truth about Granger the Gold Digger. _

_ Harry had, after years of longing for affection, finally found everlasting love with Ginevra Weasley. “Ginerva and Harry are very much in love,” close friend of the couple, Pansy Parkinson, said this morning. “I can only believe the Mud… I mean, the witch in question, must have used love potions.” _

_ No word yet from Ginevra Weasley about the whole affair. Sources close to her report her being devastated by this betrayal by the Boy Who Lived, but willing to forgive him, understanding that men will always be seduced by easy women and love potions. “My dear friend, Ginevra, is the most forgiving person,” Pansy Parkinson informed us. _

_ Harry Potter was unavailable for comment on this outrageous affair, hiding away? Apparently, he is on “Auror training in America”, according to the Ministry. We here at the Prophet do not believe that story. This reporter was able to get a comment from Mr Potter’s close friend and brother-in-law-to-be, Mr Ronald Weasley. “This is private. Keep your noses out of it if you know what’s good for you. Merlin help you if you start making up stories again!” This can only mean that the entire Weasley clan is standing behind a distraught Ginevra. We here at the Prophet wish the best for Ginevra Weasley, and if she would like to comment on this story, this reporter will always be available for such a task. _

“How can the newspapers be allowed to print filth like this?” Hermione spat as she finished the article. “Who is this Lavender Brown anyway? She’s claiming to know me, but I’ve never even heard of the woman!”

“It’s all lies!” Luna replied calmly. “The reporter is known for her sensational stories and doesn’t mind making up stories to sell papers. I’m sure Harry will come by to explain…”

“I told him to leave me alone,” Hermione interrupted.

“Why? What happened here?” Luna asked surprised.

“He said I was his biggest mistake,” she replied. Her eyes threatened to overflow again. 

“I can’t believe it,” Luna muttered, stroking Hermione’s hair. “That horrible man!”

“He even accused you of being the one to break the story.”

“What?” Luna asked surprised. “Why would I do that? You’re my best friend.”

“He said that you told your father and that was how the reporters knew to come looking for a story here,” she spat, knowing Harry had been wrong to accuse Luna. 

“Oh my…,” Luna stared at Hermione, colour draining from her face. “When I was working with Dad on Saturday, he asked how you were doing and I told him you had met a new guy… Bollocks... I did tell him about Harry, but I didn’t realise… I can’t believe Dad would use the information for the paper! I am so sorry, Hermione!” 

...

The next day, Hermione decided to be a responsible adult and put Harry out of her mind. As she was walking to _ Books _, someone called her name, and as she turned to see who it was, she was shot with a bright light of a camera flash. 

“Granger, do you have any comments about your ruthless exploitation of Harry Potter?” a man asked as he kept snapping pictures of her. He was tall and thin, and she considered hexing him, maybe a Full Body-Bind. Realising they were in the middle of Muggle London, she instead covered her face and dashed off towards the shop. Nearing the shop, she saw the street was crowded by Muggles standing around looking at _ Books _.

What’s going on, she thought with dread. 

She pushed her way through the crowd, only to see the windows of _ Books _ covered with writing, horrible writing; shaming her, threatening her, and calling her a ‘gold digging Mudblood whore’. She wanted to prove to herself that she was strong enough to not let the harassment get to her, but inside she felt weak and scared. Ignoring the text and with her head held high, she hurried inside _ Books _ only to find herself engulfed in a hug by Arabella.

“Dear girl, how are you?” the older woman asked.

“I don’t know,” she replied, feeling lightheaded and short of breath. “I need to sit down.”

“It’s the shock,” Arabella replied but guided her to the chair behind the desk. 

It was a slow morning in the shop, but the number of customers picked up before lunch. There was one time during the day where Hermione felt like punching someone and that was when she heard two young woman talking.

“She doesn’t look anything special,” one of them whispered loudly to the other.

“Must be love potions,” the other replied, equally loud. “Harry would never be with someone that plain.”

“The only reason anyone would notice her, is her freakishly large teeth,” the first woman laughed.

Hermione looked at the two women finally having had enough and thinking of dragging them into the back to practice hexes on them. It was most likely illegal, but she didn’t care. 

“Hem hem,” Arabella said from just behind the two woman. They spun so quickly that one of them lost her footing and landed on the floor. “I suggest you finish your browsing.”

“We weren't doing anything,” the woman, who had remained on her feet, snapped.

“You are harassing the owner of the shop,” Arabella said, before leaning closer to the two woman and adding in a low and menacing voice, “I will not tolerate you your presence here any longer. Remove yourselves immediately.”

“Or?” the woman challenge. She appeared composed, but her voice had a slight tremor. 

“Do you really wish to find out?” Arabella demanded folding her arms over her chest. 

The two women left shortly after and Hermione sent Arabella a grateful smile. 

During the rest of the day _ Books _ was crowded but not by customers. A long line of Muggles from different shops in Notting Hill came by to ask Hermione if she was alright after seeing the graffiti on the shop windows. They were the same people who had allowed her to put up posters in their shops for the sales push, and their support cheered her up and made her love Notting Hill even more. 

That evening, Luna promised her that _ The Quibbler _would post a story about it. Hopefully, it would make most people see reason. 

“Most witches are sane and quite normal, but there will always be some who hide behind anonymity to express their anger at something that does not concern them,” Luna said. “We live in a world where people can be so in love with a celebrity or the image of a celebrity that they not only believe they have a stake in the choices he makes, but it also leads to such an intense rage when someone they see as not good enough moves in what they perceive as theirs. And Harry is the biggest celebrity we have.”

Hermione was taken aback by the insightful words from Luna. “I just hadn’t realised that it was quite this terrible,” she said. “I can better understand why Harry was always so angry about the press; they really fueled this… this persecution and hatred.”

…

In the following weeks, the harassment died down. Maybe it was due to Luna’s article in _ The Quibbler _calling the fans for bullies and the press for vultures, or maybe the storm just blew over. Even though Hermione no longer feared to be attacked in the street or her shop being burned down, life was still not easy for her. 

With a better understanding of why Harry would be so angry at the press and their constant need to write about him, she could not stop thinking about him. Her mind kept going back to that last time she had seen him. Could she forgive his comment about her if it had been said in anger at the press and not at her? 

Her life became a monotonous cycle of waking up, going to work, not thinking about Harry, trying to save the shop, and going to sleep. She put all her effort into saving the shop. All her waking hours were spent trying to solve the puzzle of how to save a shop that didn’t actually have a profit. So it was a surprise when Luna invited her to come to dinner at Rolf’s. Luna and Rolf had done their best to cheer her up since Harry left; she was bad company, but, honestly, she didn’t care.

“What is going on?” she asked, sitting down for dinner. 

“Well, you’ve been slightly down in the mouth lately,” Rolf replied calmly. 

“That’s an understatement,” Luna interjected. “There are dead people in better form.”

“I apologize for my behaviour over the last couple of weeks,” she replied, not really meaning it but assuming it would get them off her back.

“Really?” Luna asked, not believing her one bit. 

“I’ve turned a corner and henceforward intend to be more happy,” she replied, faking a smile. 

“If that is true, then I think I have a solution to your problems.”

“And what would that be?” Hermione looked at her, expecting some wise words of encouragement. 

“His name is Michael Corner, and he works at the Ministry. He is a fellow Ravenclaw from Hogwarts, and he had one of the highest O.W.L. scores in his year,” she said, before adding with a grin, “He kisses like a nymphomaniac on death row.”

“What?” Rolf cried surprised, and Luna quickly glanced at him.

“Supposedly,” she rushed to say. “I wouldn’t know from personal experience, of course.”

“I don’t really think..,” Hermione started, trying to think of an excuse. 

“Just try it, will you?” Luna pressed. “We can do it here. Rolf and I will be there with you, so you’re not alone.”

“Alright, I’ll give it a shot.”

Michael Corner seemed like a nice man, but it was quite clear Luna had not spoken much to him since school. He flirted more with Luna than he talked to Hermione. Luna kept sending panicked looks to both Rolf and Hermione, but neither were quick to help her. Rolf thought she deserved a little suffering for inviting a past sweetheart, and Hermione wanted her to realise that this should be the first and only date they set up for her. 

Eventually, Rolf took pity on Luna. “Thanks for coming, Michael,” he said loudly. “Our day is jam-packed tomorrow, so I need to get some rest.”

“Wow, I had no idea three hours had already passed!” Luna chimed in with a grateful smile at Rolf. 

“It’s only ten,” Michael said, furrowing his brow.

“We usually go to bed early,” Rolf lied, smiling apologetically. 

After Michael left, Luna turned to Hermione. “Sorry. The next will be better.” 

Even after the Michael fiasco, Luna did not give up. The next victim was Cormac McLaggen; a very handsome man but also a playboy, who at one point suggested a threesome with himself and the two women. Rolf did not waste any time getting him out of the house.

“It’s time for you to leave now,” he hissed, and both women agreed.

“Do I need to tell you what was wrong with him?” Hermione asked after they had sent him away.

“No,” Luna sighed. “He was rather obnoxious.”

Marcus Flint was a little rough around the edges, which could easily be forgiven, but the words he spoke were all about Quidditch. He had something to say about the strategy of each team in the British and International leagues, and he insulted all the players' abilities. Even before the appetizer had been served, Hermione was ready to walk out. 

“Did you see the Champion’s League match between the Fitchburg Finches and the Bigonville Bombers?” he asked, not waiting for a reply. “The Bombers is one of the top scoring teams, but that Seeker will be their doom. I could do better than him with my eyes closed, and I’m not even a Seeker!”

“You’d catch the snitch with your eyes closed?” Rolf challenged.

“Of course! I could do it,” Marcus bragged. 

When finally he left, Hermione was practically sleeping at the table. She would never love Quidditch, but the way Marcus boasted about his own skills made her hate the sport. 

“No more,” she said to Luna. “All these men have been terrible.”

“Just one more,” Luna replied. “This time I’ll be sure to vet him thoroughly.”

“No more, please,” Hermione begged, but she eventually gave in.

Seamus Finnigan was everything the other men had not been. He was funny and friendly, and Hermione actually enjoyed talking to him.

“You live in a Muggle neighbourhood?” he asked her.

“Yes, as a Muggleborn I can easily navigate the Muggle world.”

“I’m half and half actually. Dad’s a Muggle and Mom’s a witch. Bit of a nasty shock for him when he found out.”

“She didn’t tell him?” she asked surprised.

“Not until they were already married,” he replied. “Wasn’t really fair of her.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Hermione agreed. “Are your parents still together?”

“Surprisingly enough, yes. He got used to the magic, and Mom decided to get involved in the Muggle world.”

“I am surprised,” she told him. 

“I think you’d like her, if you met her,” he smiled

“I am sure,” she smiled back.

“What a lovely evening! It’s getting late, though, so it’s time for me to go,” he said as he was ready to leave. “Maybe we could do this again?” he asked 

“Maybe,” Hermione agreed.

After closing the door on him, Luna turned to Hermione immediately.

“It went well with Seamus, didn’t it?” she asked with a big smile.

“He’s a very nice man,” Hermione agreed. “He was everything I could ever ask for.”

“But?”

“No matter how many dates you set me up on, it will not work,” she sighed. 

“Why not?”

“I don’t think you realise how incredibly lucky you are to have found someone you actually love and who loves you back, warts and all,” Hermione said looking at Luna. “I don’t believe all of us can be that lucky, so it’s probably better to just give up.”

“That’s not really fair, Hermione,” Luna replied looking at her. “What Rolf and I have is far from perfect; we don’t agree on everything, we fight - usually over dirty laundry. Love is not perfect.”

“Oh, you just make it look so easy.”

“Love takes work. Being in a relationship is not just sunshine and roses. You shouldn't give up on love,” Luna warned. “Is that truly the reason you don’t what to see Seamus again?”

“No,” she replied honestly.

“It’s still about Harry?” she asked gently.

“I feel like I’ve taken a love potion. In my mind, I know he can never be mine, but I still want him. It’s almost like I’ve opened Pandora’s Box.”

“Pandora’s box?” Luna asked confused. 

“It’s an artifact in Greek mythology,” Hermione explained. “A source of great troubles…”

“Ah, I see,” Luna replied, not completely sure what Hermione meant. “You need to talk to Harry. It’s the only way you can truly move on.”

“Easy for you to say - he’s still somewhere in America,” Hermione replied. 

“He was spotted at the Ministry yesterday and the story broke this morning, Harry Potter Has Returned From America.”

“Oh God no,” she sighed, colour draining from her face. “I don’t think I can do it.”

“You do realise that ignoring your sadness or pretending you don’t feel any pain will not make it go away,” Luna commented mildly

“I’m not,” she said. “I just don’t understand how seeing Harry again will help me move on.”

“Closure, Hermione!” Luna said with emphasis. “I’ve seen you walk around with a broken heart for a month. You need closure or you will never move on.”

...

She arrived at the Ministry without really knowing what to do, but asked for directions to the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. Just as she passed the heavy oak doors to the Auror Headquarters, her eyes located his messy brown hair at once. He was standing next to a few others talking and laughing. As if warned by a sixth sense, he turned his head her way, and his surprised green eyes encountered her uncertain brown eyes. That connection alone made her tummy flip and her mouth run dry. 

For nearly a month since she last saw him, she had told herself that he could not possibly be half as charming, half as attractive as she remembered, but seeing him now completely shattered that lie. 

Taken aback by her presence, he froze momentarily but showed no other physical signs. He looked calm and collected as his eyes quickly absorbed her presence. He gave her a small smile before turning back to the man he had been talking to. 

She knew she would see him again, she had come to the office knowing it would happen, but actually seeing him was like being hit by a truck. She couldn’t do it, she just couldn’t face him again. She was ready to run away, looking around for the exit, but then he walked over towards her, and she froze.

“This is certainly … a …,” he seemed unsure about what to say.

“I shouldn’t have come,” she muttered turning from him, ready to flee. 

“Wait…,” he called, and with reluctance she turned back to face him. “There are things we need to talk about. I just need to finish up here. Maybe ten minutes. Can you wait, please?” And it was like his mere request for her to remain pushed all other thoughts from her mind. 

“Okay,” but she couldn’t stay in the room with all the people looking at her curiously, so she decided to wait outside the big doors. It would allow her some privacy, but she hadn’t planned to be able to hear the conversation from inside so well. 

“Potter, did I just see you talking to that bookshop girl,” a male voice asked, making Hermione freeze. “Is the romance back on?”

Harry’s clear voice cut through. “No comment.”

“I’ll take that as a yes then.”

“Don’t. She’s just a girl from my past,” Harry sighed.

“If she’s from the past, what’s she doing here?” the man pressed.

“I have no idea,” Harry replied calmly. 

“But she was your lover, was she not?” the man asked.

“She was an acquaintance, someone I knew a long time ago, but I haven’t seen her in ages,” Harry interposed, angrily.

“But…” the man tried

“Malfoy, go away. There is no story here, and if you do a Skeeter and make up shit, I will sue,” Harry said quite seriously.

Listening at the door was not something she was proud of, but it had been revealing and confirmed her belief it had been a bad decision to come. Seeing Harry had been painful enough, but being dismissed by him so completely hurt - almost as much as being called his biggest mistake. She was such a fool to believe their time together had meant anything to him. She turned on her heels and hurried out. 


	7. In which Hermione has to be brave

When she arrived home, Luna was already there. “How did it go?” she asked innocently, and the story came tumbling from Hermione’s lips. Luna listened patiently as Hermione explained about seeing Harry again and what he had said when questioned about her. When the story finished, Luna just hugged Hermione and muttered, “I am sorry.”

They ordered food from the local Indian restaurant. When a loud knock sounded on the door, Luna went to open it. From the living room, Hermione could not see who was there; but who else would it be if not the food delivery. 

“Hey, everything alright?” Hermione called when it seemed to take awhile for Luna to come back and she could hear quiet voices talking.

“Hey Hermione,” said a voice she had not expected to hear again. Her eyes flew to Harry standing at the edge of the living room, looking nervous.

“Harry!” she exclaimed confused jumping up from the sofa. “I thought you were dinner.”

“Right, yes. Luna mentioned it,” he replied clumsily. “Ehm, can we talk? You left before we had a chance to talk.”

“Yeah, I had to leave. Didn’t want to disturb you,” she said.

The conversation came to a standstill; both of them seemed unsure of how to proceed. They looked at each other awkwardly for a few seconds.

“How have you been?” he finally asked. “It’s… eh… been a long time.”

“Me? Good... Fine... I’m fine… busy, you know… with the shop,” she replied clumsily. “You?”

“I’m fine also.”

“Good.”

He looked uncomfortable, but slowly stepped into the living room. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, and I… eh… I wanted to contact you, but I didn’t know if you wanted me to, and then I saw you today and figured… well, the thing is I have been offered a job to work for the American Aurors, but I wondered if I didn’t accept, whether you might consider liking me again?” he spoke nervously, talking all over the place. “If we could start over?”

Hermione, focussing only on the last part of his speech, replied, “But today that guy asked you about me and you just dismissed me out of hand.”

With a sigh he replied, “He is the most indiscreet man in England. Anything I told him would have made the headlines before the day was over and I couldn’t do that to you again.” 

“All that... your life, the fame, the press, the public outcry... I don’t think I can do that again,” she admitted weakly, looking away from him.

“I’m so sorry you were put through all of that,” he said, trying to comfort her. 

“I hadn’t realised just how famous you are,” she muttered. “Your life is not really your own, is it?”

“I didn’t ask for the fame,” he whispered, moving forward to grasp her hands. “I don’t want that life. We could go anywhere and live a quiet life someplace else. Whatever else I might be, I am also just a boy, standing in front of a girl, asking her to love him.”

“I don’t know, Harry,” she whispered. “With you I am in real danger. I don’t think I’m brave enough to risk my heart again. I think…,” she slowly detangled her hands from his. “Can I just say ‘no’ to your kind offer?”

“That’s fine. Yes, of course. I’ll … ehm… Sorry to bother you… I’ll just be on my way then… Good seeing you…,” he replied awkwardly. “I wish you the best of luck… you know, with life.” 

He left shortly after and Hermione felt an empty void where her heart used to be. She sat down where she stood, her eyes shimmering with unshed tears while her emotions were in turmoil. Had Harry really just been there to see her? She could hardly believe it and she could hardly remember what he had said. The only thought that remained in her mind was that she had said no to his offer to try over. It was the right decision, she knew it. The fame that surrounded him would drown her. 

...

“Hermione!” Luna cried loudly, as she rushed into _ Books _ the next day. Her hair flying everywhere as she aggressively pushed her way to the counter, where Hermione was just finishing up with a customer. The few customers in the shop all turned to Luna in surprise at her outburst. “What happened yesterday?” 

“I have no idea what you are yelling about,” Hermione replied calmly, handing the bag to the customer with a smile and a ‘thank you’.

“I came straight here as soon as I heard,” Luna informed her, as the customer walked away.

“Heard what?” she asked quietly, trying to get Luna to stop yelling so loudly.

“Every reporter in the country is at the Ministry today!” 

“Why should I care about that?” she asked confused. She had nothing to do with the Ministry.

“The reason they are all there!” Luna rolled her eyes at Hermione. “Harry Potter has announced he’s moving to America!”

“What?” she asked weakly, trying to make sense of what Luna was telling her. “No, but surely…”

“When he came by yesterday I only let him in because he said he wanted to clear the air and apologise,” Luna informed her briskly. “Did you sort out everything?” 

“Yes!” she replied quickly before admitting, “no, not really.” 

“‘Mione, what happened?” 

“He said he was offered a new job…,” she muttered.

“What else?” Luna pressed.

“He asked if we could start over,” she admitted.

“Why am I guessing you turned him down? Did you at least discuss the past and the breakup?” 

“No.”

“So what exactly happened,” Luna pressed. 

Hermione calmly explained everything that happened, but during the explanation Luna looked very unimpressed. “He said that he was just a boy, standing in front of a girl, asking her to love him,” Hermione said, finishing her story. 

Luna stared at her in astonishment. “For such a smart person you really are stupid,” Luna cried, rolling her eyes.

“Sorry?” 

“Let me ask you one thing,” Luna said. “Do you still love him?”

“Yes,” she admitted quietly, but after a few moments, she added, “but I can’t deal with all the press and publicity.”

“So our living room was crowded with the press yesterday?”

“No, it wasn’t.” She furrowed her brows in confusion.

“I understand you had a hard time with the press after your breakup,” Luna said soothingly, “but Harry does not usually seek out the publicity, does he? He enjoys hanging out here in Notting Hill - a very Muggle area. He might be the most famous wizard in the world, but he does not live his life in the papers. He is a very private man - not much of his private life is actually known.”

“Ehm…”

“You thought, he didn’t care for you,” Luna reminded her, “but he just declared his love. Do you think him a liar?”

“No,” she muttered, starting to doubt her decision. It was true that Harry was a very private man, but he had let her in and shared his life with her. In the time they had been together, the press had not actually been that bad. It was only that last time, when they broke up, where the press was horrible, and that was because it was so unexpected and the resulting row between her and Harry really destroyed everything. “Oh bugger! I’ve made the wrong decision, haven't I?” she whined as what Luna said made sense in her mind. 

“Yes!” Luna cried loudly.

“What do I do now?” she cried in frustration.

“You make sure he doesn’t leave without knowing how you feel,” Luna reasoned. “They said he would leave right after the press conference.”

...

Hermione and Luna rushed to the Ministry together, but had some problems actually getting into the press conference. It was held in a conference hall, securely guarded by Aurors.

“How do we get inside?” Hermione asked pulling on a locked door marked ‘press conference’.

“You don’t,” a voice said from behind them. “Only reporters are allowed inside the press conference.” They turned to see a red haired man looking at them with his wand drawn but it was hanging loosely at his side. He moved closer, but suddenly stopped as he caught sight of Hermione. “I know you,” he said looking at her. “What are you doing here?”

“I have to talk to Harry!”

“He's doing a press conference,” the man replied. “We are guarding the perimeter so no one interrupts or attacks. But even so, what can you possibly have to say to him after you broke his heart?”

“I broke his heart?” she asked in disbelief.

The man looked at her, believing her to be joking. “He came to you yesterday, didn’t he? Trying to solve everything, but you turned him down! He visited me afterwards. He usually doesn’t drink, but he drank all my firewhiskey, while deciding he wants to leave Britain. I’ve never seen him as destroyed as he was yesterday. Even when my sister broke up with him, he was never like that!”

“I don’t know what to say,” she replied honestly.

“You destroyed him. What more can you possibly have to say?”

“I need to tell him that I was wrong,” she replied honestly. “Please, let me through.”

The man looked at her for a long time, and she tried her best to look ernest. “If you are honest…”

“I am!” she cried.

“I can get you into the press conference but the rest is up to you.”

“Thank you so much.”

The man opened the door for her. “Without a press ID you will stand out.”

“Here take mine,” Luna said, hanging a square card around Hermione’s neck. “Good luck!” She remained outside. “Do yourself proud!”

Full of apprehension, Hermione entered a huge room full of reporters; row after row of journalists. Cameras at the front, cameras at the back. Everything set up to not miss anything Harry Potter had to say. Harry must give press conferences very rarely, since so many reporters were there, she thought as she pushed her way to the front. Or perhaps he was really just that famous. 

She noticed Harry sitting at a table at the end of the room, looking bored and uninterested in being present. Hermione, having learned to read him, clearly saw his boredom for what it was, a distaste for being in the middle of the press conference. He really hated being the center of attention and it showed in the way he held himself. He was surrounded by two people, she didn’t know. They both looked vaguely familiar and she might have seen them in the Auror department the day before. One of the men appeared to be a sort of moderator guiding the questions from the reporters. The other man looked to be more of a guard, keeping a trained eye on the crowds of reporters. The reporters all had their arms raised, indicating they wanted to ask a question.

“Yes, Dominic,” the moderator said, pointing to a reporter.

“Harry, you’ve only just returned to Britain and now you are moving away. How long are you actually staying?” the reporter asked.

“No time at all. I’m leaving for America once this is over,” Harry replied calmly. 

The moderator looked out over the reporters, all of them waving for him to pick them. “Yes, Rita,” he finally said, pointing to a blond woman.

“How much of your decision to move to America is based on the rumours that Ginevra Weasley has been seen intimately with Kenneth Towler? It must be so hard to see the woman you love walk away like that.”

“You really have no idea,” he replied with a wry laugh. “Ginny and I broke up more than half a year ago. I truly wish her the best in life, but her lovers do not matter to me and do not influence how I live my life.”

A reporter, busy writing notes, was called upon to ask the next question. “Just before you left, there were some fairly graphic pictures taken of you and a Muggleborn witch,” he said. “What happened there?”

Harry’s expression turned serious and grim. “The fact that someone I care about can not walk the streets of Muggle London without having the press harass her or having her shop attacked makes me sick,” Harry replied. “Why should I wish to stay in a country that abuses a friend of mine?”

That answer was met with silence. No one had ever heard the Saviour speak quite so plainly before and a few of the reporter exchanged looks - had they been the reason the Saviour wanted to leave?

“Yes, the lady in the green sweater,” the moderator said, breaking the silence. Hermione, like everyone else, looked around trying to see who would ask the next question. She was surprised to notice the man was pointing at _ her _. True, she had her arm raised but that was only to try and catch Harry’s attention. Now she seemed to have it along with the attention of everyone else in the room. The only acknowledgement that Harry recognised her, was him leaning forward in his seat as if trying to get a better look at her. 

“Yes… Well, I just wanted to ask, if there are any circumstances in which you two might be more than friends?” she asked. Her heart hammering away in her chest.

Harry considered her question for a while, before he answered. “I hoped there might be, but no, I was assured there was not.”

“But what if…,” she started, but the moderator cut her off.

“It’s just one question per person.”

“No no, let her ask,” Harry interrupted quickly, looking to Hermione. “You were saying?”

“I was just wondering if it turned out that this person…”

“Granger,” a reporter, somewhere in the crowd, called helpfully. “Her name is Granger.”

“Yes, thank you,” she said, acknowledging the reporter nervously. “What if this Granger realized she’d been a complete and utter fool and got down on her knees and begged you to reconsider, whether you would in fact… reconsider?” He looked at her, as if trying to understand what she was saying. Waiting for him to reply was one of the hardest things, she had ever experienced in her life. 

“Yes, I’m pretty sure I would,” he replied.

Those few simple words was all it took for Hermione to break into a wide smile. For just a few seconds, as their eyes were locked, it appeared they were the only two people in the room, but then the buzz of the reporters distracted them. 

“Did that answer your question?” the moderator asked. He glanced at Harry as if expecting another interruption from him.

“Yes, thank you. That’s very good news,” Hermione replied, trying to keep to her persona as a reporter intact, but failing miserably. A few reporters had already turned their attention towards her, snapping pictures. 

Harry whispered something to the moderator, who turned to the reporters. “We are taking a short break,” he informed them as Harry rose from his seat. 

He nodded for Hermione to come with him and lead her to a small room on the side of the conference room. That seemed to clue the rest of the reporters in that something peculiar was going on. Suddenly all the cameras started flashing and questions were shouted loudly. It was pandemonium, but the two people at the center of it, didn’t realise because they had already left the room. As soon as the doors closed behind them Harry grabbed her hands. 

“What are you doing here? You are the last person I expected to see.”

“I had to find you,” she said, rushing to tell him everything. “I had to tell you that I made a mistake yesterday and to beg you to reconsider.” 

“You came here just to talk to me?” he asked admiringly. “Into the lion’s den, where reporters would surely swarm you. You went through that just to see me? 

“I couldn’t let you leave without being honest,” she replied. “I need to tell you that I love you.” 

At her confession his expression turned into a wide smile. She might have thought his face was illuminated by his smile when she dropped her ice cream on him all that time ago, but the way he smiled now, transform his expression completely and she couldn’t help smiling back at him.

“I really thought I was alone in the love department,” he told her, still smiling. 

“Turns out you’ve got company,” she replied. “I was truly heartbroken when you left.”

“Yesterday?” he asked confused.

“No, that day the reporters found you.”

“Oh?” he seemed surprised, almost shocked. “But I thought you never wanted to see me again. You told me to leave you alone and get out of your house,” he reminded her.

“Only after you told me I was the biggest mistake in your life.” 

“I never said that. I would never say that.” He looked so honest and confused by her statement, that she was taken aback.

“But you did!” she challenged. 

He frowned as he thought about it. “I don’t remember my exact words, but I do remember thinking it was a mistake for me to believe the press would never find me in Notting Hill. I should have done more to protect you and your privacy. It was a mistake not to do so.”

“I don’t believe it,” she muttered, thinking back to his words. “It can’t be…” 

He let go of her hands and gently grabbed her chin, forcing her to look at him. “Why would I ever say you were a mistake when you are the best thing that ever happened to me. Knowing you has brightened my life and given it new meaning. With you I don’t have to be the Boy Who Lived - I can just be me.”

She sucked in air and stared at him in astonishment. Had she so completely misunderstood? Looking at Harry now; he was so ernest and she could not help believing him. “But if that is true… and I thought for so long...,” she muttered. Her vision blurred. 

“Don’t cry,” he whispered, wiping the tears from her eyes with his fingers. “It was completely my fault. I was so caught up in how I felt about the press that I didn’t think to consider how you might feel, and I very nearly lost you in the process.”

“I really thought I hated you,” she admitted weakly.

“For that I will always be sorry,” he admitted. “I will spend the rest of my life making sure you never have cause to doubt my love again.”

“You really love me?” she challenged, still not quite believing it.

“I really love you,” he admitted, before claiming her mouth with his. It was a kiss that spoke of promises and love.

A knock on the door interrupted them and a voice softly spoke. “Harry if you are still in there you need to get going soon. The reporters are not willing to wait much longer and I am afraid they will bring down this door down soon.”

“Ehm…,” Harry replied looking to Hermione. “Guess, my clever plan to talk in private was not all that clever.”

“What should we do?” she asked.

“Let’s get out of here,” he said. With a smile he held his hand out to her and she grabbed it. He brought her hand to his lips, and the gesture made her smile. 

“I trust you,” she replied, before they apperated away.

Harry ended up not going to America, as he had found something more important in Britain. He did take a short leave from his job to help Hermione turn _Books_ around. It didn’t help. The shop continued to struggle financially and eventually Hermione decided it was better to just close it for good. The property was quickly sold to an antique dealer who turned the shop into a prosperous new business. 

She never got used to the press following Harry so closely, but with time she was comfortable enough around the reporters to know how to handle them and keep her private life somewhat private.

…

Hermione woke with a start. For a moment she couldn’t determine what had woken her and she sat up with a start. She felt the bed sag as someone sat down next to her.

“Didn’t mean to wake you,” Harry whispered.

“Harry?” she mumbled, not yet fully awake. “I thought you’d be away until Friday.” 

He had been away in America for a few weeks of Auror training. Turning down their job offer had not made them less determined to have him, so instead they had asked him to come and teach their Aurors a couple of times throughout the year.

“I missed you too much to stay away longer,” he whispered. 

“I missed you too,” she admitted before leaning in to kiss him. 

“I have something really important to discuss with you,” he said, breaking the kiss.

“Now?” She blinked and stared at him in disbelief. “It’s one o’clock, it’s not time for serious conversations.” She reached her hand around his neck, pulling him closer and trying to kiss him again.

“It’s really important,” he urged, resisting her. “It’s the reason I rushed back.”

“You can be really demanding,” she replied with a soft smile, but let her hand fall and looked at him expectantly. “So what is this important matter?”

“How do you feel about getting engaged?” he asked nervously. 

Her eyes widened in surprise and confusion. “That is not something to joke about,” she warned.

“I’m not joking,” he frowned. “I want you to be the last thing I see before I fall asleep. I want to wake up next to you every morning. I want to sit around the breakfast table and laugh at your bad jokes about my feet…”

“Hey,” she interrupted, laughing. 

He gently tugged up her chin so their eyes met. “Hermione Granger, will you marry me?” he asked seriously. 

“Yes.”

His eyes lit up and he quickly leaned in to kiss her passionately, making her head swim. One kiss led to another and their shared passion took over.


End file.
